


The Quarian

by dispatchwithlove



Series: The Cases of Shepard and Vakarian [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst, Banter, Best Friends, F/M, Humor, Murder Mystery, Slow Burn, friendship fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dispatchwithlove/pseuds/dispatchwithlove
Summary: Shepard and Vakarian have been partners for three years, and are labeled Homicide's best team, which gets them the worst cases. They're sent to the scene where a quarian is left for dead, and they see something unimaginable to even the most seasoned detectives. When they're hunting down two turians capable of the most horrific crime, dodging the press, and trying to impress the Council, how can anyone expect them to also process those weird little thoughts that keep popping up? They're just friends. Good friends, and nothing more...Really.Or, in other words, this is the story of two very smart detectives acting like idiots as they slowly fall in love.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Shepard & Garrus Vakarian
Series: The Cases of Shepard and Vakarian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661467
Comments: 94
Kudos: 62





	1. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Vakarian get a career-changing shock when they are assigned a new case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs I had on loop while writing this chapter:  
> "Iconography" & "On the Nature of Daylight", both by Max Richter

“Shepard! Tell me about the clitoris,” Kryik called out as she neared her desk. It’s not that his behavior surprised her, but she wasn’t quite awake yet, so he caught her off guard, making her nearly spill her coffee when she let out a short laugh. He usually waited at least until they’d all had some coffee before trying to start those types of conversations. 

“Good morning to you too Kryik,” she replied, her voice still hoarse in the early morning. She set her coffee down before sliding into her work chair and glanced across their desks to nod good morning to her partner. She then gave Kryik’s incredibly patient partner, T’saris, a nod as well.

“Morning Shepard,” T’saris called in her usual low and sultry tone, which offered a much more soothing ‘good morning’ than Kryik’s greeting. 

“Where’s mine?” Vakarian asked, gesturing towards Shepard’s coffee. He looked tired, and grouchy. Without any evidence she blamed Livia. Sure, it was unfair, but more often than not nowadays his bad moods were directly related to his mate. And what kind of friend would she be if she blamed Vakarian for any of it?

Vakarian obviously had no idea what Kryik was talking about, he must have never heard the term before, because if he had he’d be scowling at Kryik to shut up at that point. Vakarian wasn’t a prude, he didn’t mind people talking about sex in general. But when Kryik talked about sex he got personal. Stories were shared, against Vakarian’s wishes. Kryik did everything full throttle and had little respect for Vakarian’s privacy. It probably also had something to do with Kryik teasing him incessantly, just as an older brother would harass his younger brother. 

“Sorry, meet me tomorrow morning at the coffee shop, we’ll get it together,” she told Vakarian. “It’ll be our little thing, coffee in the morning.” Satisfied by that answer, they exchanged a smile and he continued typing away at his console. 

With her partner appeased she turned back to Kryik, who waited patiently for an answer as she logged into her console.

“So you want to know about mine in particular or….” she asked him, unable to hide the sly grin this conversation was giving her. 

“No. Unless there’s something uniquely important about yours…”

Shepard turned her amused smile to T’saris, “Where is this coming from?”

“As usual, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

Shepard turned back to Kryik, “Nope normal clitoris. I mean, I’m more fond of mine than I am of others. You know that I consider myself strictly a dick type of woman.”

That got a reaction out of her partner. They knew each other well by now -- three years at each other's side most days and many nights. So she was expecting the look, and she knew exactly what he was saying with it. _Don’t get him started._

“Sorry, big guy. But you know I can’t resist,” she told Vakarian with a somewhat apologetic smile. Vakarian glanced at her briefly before refocusing on work. That little glance told her he wanted to steer clear -- a hundred feet clear -- of this conversation, but that he didn’t expect her to stay out of it just to make him more comfortable. At that moment she realized they silently communicated, and often. They were officially two-peas-in-a-pod, couldn't-be-tighter, partners. She felt proud. 

“Just in general. What do they do?” Kryik continued to press, breaking her concentration off her partner. He leaned forward in his chair, so earnestly interested he looked like a salarian when anything science-related was brought up. But there was also an intensity burning in his eyes, and there were only a few things that got Kryik this serious -- sparring, being a detective, and sex. 

“They don’t _do_ anything, other than give a female human an orgasm,” Shepard explained, not equaling Kryik’s level of respect for the matter. 

“Well that part is obvious…Listen, you tell me about the clitoris and I’ll tell you about turian dicks. It’ll be a nice little cultural exchange.”

“What can you teach me about turian dicks that I haven’t already learned from porn vids?” Feeling Vakarian’s eyes on her, she stole a glance in his direction to see him giving her an amused look, a browplate subtly raised -- she was definitely getting teased for this later, once they were safe from Kryik’s interjections. She snuck him a smirk before turning back to Kryik, who was either unaware of their little exchange or chose to ignore it. 

“You’re shitting me,” Kryik replied, mandibles agape. “You watch turian porn?” 

“Turian-human porn to be exact,” she said, taking a decent chug of her coffee. “Look, you’re not the only one who’s curious.” 

His surprised expression slowly morphed into a sly smile. “Hey, Shepard. You just feel free to call me up if you’re ever at home and you decide those vids don’t satiate your curiosity.”

“Oh Kryik, that’s so sweet,” she said, leaning back in her chair comfortably, getting an absolute kick out of Kryik fake flirting with her. 

His browplate rose seductively, leaning towards her and resting an elbow on his desk casually. “Oh there’s nothing sweet about what I’m offering.” 

“No,” Shepard smiled from behind her cup of coffee, “I mean it’s sweet that you think you can handle me.”

Kryik let out a hearty laugh and T’saris laughed along lightly as she typed away at her console. The only one _not_ laughing was Vakarian who stared at his console trying to act oblivious to their conversation. 

“I kinda want to see this happen, just to see how much you’d wreck his little soul,” T’saris said. “Oh, and by the way Shepard, don’t bother with male turians unless you like being pinned down, licked from head to toe, and pierced in the most intimate of areas with razor-sharp teeth.”

Shepard laughed, a soft, naughty little chuckle as she tried to find the file she should be focusing on instead of bullshitting with her coworkers. “Sounds fun, actually. I’m just wondering if the nibbling is one-sided, or am I allowed to reciprocate?” 

Shepard and T’saris shared a knowing look and a laugh before focusing back on their work. 

“You seem a bit rough for me.” Kryik said, leaning back in his chair while sending a quirked browplate in Shepard’s direction, making her think that maybe he wasn’t as into receiving when it came to rough play as he was in giving. “Although now I am _very_ curious how rough female humans can get.”

As much as Shepard enjoyed bullshitting at work, Vakarian had steadily been sinking lower and lower in his chair, and she wondered how in the hell he didn’t realize that made him an even bigger target. 

“Listen, Kryik,” Shepard said with a grin, making sure his attention stayed on her instead of wandering over to Vakarian, “we can do sex ed some other time, but I have some reports to slave over. I’ll tell you all about orgasms and the clitoris later.”

“Flux, tonight?”

“Sure.” 

“Mind if I tag along?” asked T’Saris. “I wouldn't mind learning a bit more about human female anatomy.”

“Of course,” Kryik answered before turning to Vakarian. “Think you can convince Livia to grace us with her presence?”

“I don’t know. She’s been in a terrible fucking mood lately.”

“She’s always in a terrible mood,” Kryik said as if he wasn’t stating an obvious fact. Notably, Vakarian didn't react. He was reacting to Kryik’s gripes about Livia a lot less lately. While Shepard was wary of her lately, Kryik had always hated her. Though he never let Vakarian really know. That had been a drunken confession a few weeks ago when Livia threw a fit that Vakarian didn’t leave Flux after a few women hit on him. Shepard was kind of on her side on that one, about it being annoying that women were flirting with him, not the leaving because of it part -- but she’d always been the jealous type too. And Vakarian got enough attention when they went out that it annoyed everyone in the group, actually. 

“That’s not true,” T’Saris said, “she was very pleasant when I first met her. Then she started dating you...” she added with a smirk.

“Funny,” Vakarian replied, voice monotone and eyes focused on his screen. “Did you steal that line from Livia?” 

He was trying to be funny, but that made Shepard cringe...and a little angry too. Vakarian deserved a woman who appreciated him, and didn’t insist on making his life so damned miserable. Granted, he seemed like he could be a real pain in the ass...but Livia’s pain in the ass qualities made her mean, whereas Vakarian’s just made him a bit obnoxious. Livia certainly lacked his charm and sense of humor, for sure. 

Discussions died down around the entire Homicide unit as Pallin came out of his office, making his way towards their side of the room, and stopped just by Shepard and Vakarian’s desks. 

“Vakarian. Shepard. Get to the markets. Coordinates will be sent to your omni-tools.”

“What’s up?” Shepard asked as she and Vakarian locked their consoles. 

“Someone fucking eviscerated a quarian,” Pallin answered.

Shepard’s breath caught, and though she'd been reaching for her coffee to chug what she could before leaving, she instead dropped her hand. Her gaze shot to Vakarian, whose sharp eyes just flicked to meet hers. That brief look told her neither of them wanted this case. Their reputation as the best team in Homicide was starting to stack some really gruesome cases in their corner. They’d spent the past few months convincing themselves and each other a break would come soon, but so far that seemed to be a pipe dream. 

“Hope you didn't eat a big breakfast,” Pallin continued. “The body’s in such bad shape that no one will go near it. We only have one officer at the scene and Forensics is strung out between so many crime scenes right now they’re having trouble getting there. So hurry it up.”

Shepard held her breath as she and Vakarian rose from their chairs, grabbing their jackets and checking the heat sinks in their pistols. Images of what they were about to see burst through her imagination. 

What had to have been done to a body to qualify as evisceration? This wouldn't just be some stab wounds, and stab wounds were bad enough. With that you had blood, maybe some fat layers leaking out, but you rarely saw the viscera. Depending on where it hit, the smell could be extra terrible. 

But eviscerated? 

The quarian would be cut open, side to side? Organs would have fallen out? Or pulled out? Why eviscerate a quarian? What kind of criminal, or psychopath, actually cut someone clean open and spilled their organs? Shepard had never dealt with a case like this, never seen a body in this condition, and she wondered if Vakarian had. In the elevator, as these thoughts ran through her mind, their omni-tools finally pinged.

Looking down at their message he muttered, “Lower markets. We’ll get there quicker on foot, but we should hurry.”

 _Eviscerated_. 

Shepard nodded while watching her partner. She’d been a cop for eight years, and she’d seen a lot of shit in those eight years. Vakarian assuredly had seen more, though, in an equal amount of years serving in special ops in the Hierarchy. But for all those years he didn’t look any better off than she felt -- that fact alone had her a bit shaken. 

“Christ, this is going to be bad,” she said, her nerves so wound up that she was drumming her fingers against her thighs. _Eviscerated_. It was all she could think. All that played through her head as they rode the elevator down in silence. 

Vakarian just nodded in response. 

Silent moments were odd and infrequent between them nowadays. They both shifted, mentally preparing themselves for what they were going to see. The walk through the markets was quick -- they were in a hurry to get to the scene. Despite the din of noise, the people they had to weave through, the people trying to stop them when they saw the badges on their lapels, they moved forward quickly enough. Getting the site secure was going to be key in preserving evidence. One officer could only do so much. 

That was one thing that shocked Shepard when she first started working for SFPD back on Earth -- how so many regular, everyday people wanted to see a dead body, no matter how brutal the murder had been. Most regretted indulging their curiosity. Shepard never felt bad when she saw them tucked to the side at the crime scene, hands shaking and a distant look in their eyes. Call her cruel, but they deserved it. 

They were getting further from the markets, closer to the maintenance halls where life support, plumbing, and other utilities were accessed by Citadel maintenance workers. They were somewhat secluded, only visited off and on throughout the day and night cycles. Thankfully, there would be fewer people they had to contend with, she hoped. And that meant a more reliable crime scene for gathering evidence. 

As they rounded a corner, Shepard’s gaze fell on the officer who arrived first to the scene. She stood at the entrance to a corridor, lights flickering around them casting shadows. It was an asari, and she looked ill. Her skin pale, hands shaking, that distant look in her eyes...she was probably in shock. It was normal to see gunshot wounds, stab wounds, strangulation and broken necks...but evisceration? Not many were prepared for that. And even if they were, it would still stick. That poor asari would be wrecked for life now. 

As Shepard took a deep breath in, preparing herself, she heard a few deep sniffs from her partner. He probably already smelled the blood. With cases like this, she certainly didn’t envy turian’s heightened senses. Although, maybe the smell didn’t bother them as much. 

Shepard and Vakarian both flashed their C-Sec badges. “Detective Vakarian,” he said before pointing to Shepard, “and Detective Shepard. Is the body behind you down that hall?”

The asari nodded, looking like she was holding back vomit. “I’m Officer Leos, sir. She -- the body -- is behind me. I set up barriers at each access point, and I’ve been positioned here since I arrived.”

Vakarian nodded again, and Shepard offered an encouraging smile as they reached the entrance to the corridor, but the asari’s eyes were decently glossy and unfocused, so she wasn’t quite sure the reassurance even registered. Shepard’s gaze looked down the corridor, and sure enough, about fifty feet away the body of a quarian, female, sat slumped against the wall. Bright red blood pooled beneath her, but not as much as Shepard expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. The victim’s hand still held tight to her stomach, and even from their location Shepard could see her bowels spilled out over her hand. 

“She…” Officer Leos’ voice shook, nearly as hard as her hands were shaking, “she wasn’t murdered there, I don’t think. I didn’t get to follow it, but there’s a trail of blood from somewhere deeper within the corridors.

As Vakarian took out his omni-tool, ready to start taking notes while they waited for the forensics team, Shepard took another steadying breath. “Any reason to believe the murderer is still in the area?” Shepard asked.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone, other than the guy who found her. A drell custodian.” Officer Leos pointed to the corner of the room they stood in, where a drell sat, his head between his knees. 

“Stay here, while we take a look at the body,” Vakarian ordered. 

As they walked down the hall Shepard noticed the quarian’s helmet was missing. Long dark hair spilled out over her face, covering it entirely and blocking it from their view. They had to have those on, all the time, or else they would be exposed to all sorts of things in the environment that would kill them. _Did the murder take it off, to make sure she died?_ Shepard wondered. _Like pulling someone’s bowels out wasn’t enough?_

As they got closer the extent of the damage became clearer -- blood trailed down her chest as well, her hair clinging to it in clumps and ensuring her hair stayed on place obscuring her face. They stepped closer, and stopped a few feet away from her feet. Shepard noticed on the ground, written in red blood, were two names. ‘Achillus’ and ‘Traian’ -- both male turian names. She wrote down the names of the murderers, maybe? Surely they wouldn’t write something using her blood. And the drag marks looked smooth, like they came from a gloved finger, not one with a talon at the top.

Although her face was covered, her neck was mostly visible. The murderer had sliced her neck open too. Eviscerated, stab wounds to the chest, slit her throat, took off her helmet. Shepard’s stomach turned, the scene and the smell finally getting to her. A seasoned cop by now, and she was ill, wringing her hands to keep them from shaking, then glanced down the hall tracking the blood trail until it led around a faraway corner and to another corridor. 

“Christ,” Shepard muttered. “Did she walk here like this, all on her own?” 

Vakarian, whose eyes hadn't left the victim since they stopped at her feet, opened his mouth to reply, but his response was interrupted by the faintest wheezing sound. He froze, eyes shooting wide. Shepard barely heard it, but Vakarian would have been able to clearly. They waited just a second, eyes trained on the quarian, and heard another slow, bubbling wheeze. A bloody air bubble came from the slice in her neck.

_Fuck, she’s breathing. How the fuck is she breathing._

Shepard’s pulse pounded throughout her body, sending adrenaline rushing. _She’s alive._

Shepard lifted her omni-tool as Vakarian fell to his knees beside the quarian. “Headquarters, Detective Shepard, Lower Markets. We have a live victim. We need medical support ASAP. Female quarian in critical condition. She’ll need an enviro safe stretcher.” She typed quickly, for some stupid reason proud that her hand wasn’t shaky as she reported some of the most obvious and life-threatening injuries into her communication with Dispatch so the medical team would have some idea of what they were dealing with before arriving on scene. 

As Dispatch confirmed her call and notes, to Shepard’s absolute shock, the victim lifted her hand, reaching out for Vakarian. Without hesitation he quickly took it, squeezing lightly. “We have help on the way. You're going to be ok,” his soothing, steady voice told the quarian, and despite Shepard’s best efforts she couldn't help but think about the woman’s chances. Even though she was miraculously breathing and still had the energy to lift her hand, her bowels were spilled, her chest and neck ripped to shreds, and no helmet. 

The victim was a quarian with her suit sliced open and helmet off -- she might as well be dead. 

“Where’s her helmet?” Her partner’s voice was steady but tense. “She needs her helmet.” 

The trail of blood. Shepard turned, legs racing and feet pounding against the floor, following the red drops and smears. Down the corridor they’d found the body in, she jumped the barricade, rounded the corner, and further down that hall for another 200 feet, at least. A small object came into her sight, sitting amongst pooled and splattered blood that covered the ground and the walls. That had to be where it happened. Shepard grabbed the helmet, while doing her best to mind the possible evidence that had to be everywhere at the scene as much as possible, and raced back to where her partner sat with the victim. 

Not knowing what to do with it she threw him the helmet, knowing that even though he wasn’t looking at her he’d catch it. She stood to the side and watched Vakarian pop it back on, sealing it -- whatever good that did. Her suit was compromised. _Would the helmet even help?_

They waited with her, her golden eyes open and watching them from behind the helmet. Despite not knowing quarians Shepard saw so much fear in those eyes. They pleaded though. For help and for her life. And what Shepard would have given to be able to promise her that.

She didn’t move again or try to say anything. She just held on tightly to Vakarian, watching him with a weak gaze, and occasionally glancing over at Shepard. Her breaths were shallow, her chest barely rising, then falling with way too many seconds in between. 

_Would she even make it until the medical support arrived?_ This woman walked all this way, after everything they did to her. If Shepard had to watch her die after all this...she knew it was inevitable, the woman was dying. But Shepard wracked her brain thinking of something else she could do to help the poor woman live. They’d done all they could, though. 

Shepard watched Vakarian as they waited in silence. She had trouble looking at the horror that was the qaurian’s body, and she couldn't bring herself to get closer than a few feet away. Her body shook and her stomach continued to turn. The smell and the heat contained in the maintenance corridors made Shepard dizzy. 

But her partner was calm, seemingly unshaken, and held a steady gaze with the victim while encouraging her with soothing words. How strong she was. How she was going to be fine. That he’d be there, holding her hand, the whole time. That he wouldn't leave her. That he wouldn't let anything happen to her. 

Shepard had never been more awed by another being. Not only the quarian, who was still alive, somehow. But also by her partner, who was able to sit with her and talk to her with a deep, soothing voice despite the gore that he was only inches away from. 

Backup officers arrived soon after, but they remained down the hall and close to Leos. No one seemed to want to get close to a quarian knocking on death’s door. Already one foot into heaven, or the quarian equivalent. Shepard wanted to be mad at them for their cowardice, but while she was sticking to the woman’s side, she certainly didn’t feel strong enough to kneel down with her and talk to her as her breathing steadily grew more shallow. Minutes ticked by, but Shepard couldn't bring herself to do anything other than stand and wait.

Citadel emergency medical services arrived quicker than Shepard thought possible, sirens and flashing lights traveling from the upper level where they parked the shuttle. Several asari and salarian with CEMS emblazoned across their uniforms rushed down the stairs and to the victim, pushing Vakarian and Shepard aside and almost immediately securing the quarian in a medically sterile bag, then transporting her to the hospital. Shepard realized how much easier her job seemed compared to theirs. They operated under real pressure. They had to save a life. Compared to medical staff, who could actually do something for the living, a detective wasn't much more than a bloodhound, sniffing out the criminal to bring them in so they could face whatever hollow justice the courts doled out. That sad thought made her realize she was spending a bit too much time with her pessimistic partner. Still, emergency medical support were miracle workers, asked to do the impossible. 

After they left, Shepard expected to get a message on her omni-tool letting them know the quarian didn’t make it. It had to be coming. 

Forensics finally came next, processing both scenes and all the quarian’s steps in between. All the while Shepard was in a daze, and Vakarian didn’t look much better off. 

It was so much easier when they were dead. When there was nothing you could do but treat their body as just another piece of evidence. 

With the victim gone and out of sight and Forensics quick at work, Shepard and Vakarian pulled themselves together to focus on the scene and the evidence. Nothing forensics presented surprised them, though. Only a psychopath could have treated another living thing so cruelly. It was brutal, mindless, destruction of life. 

As Shepard remembered the look in the woman’s eyes she realized it was more than that. It was the destruction of the poor woman’s body. 

Officer Leos, who Shepard was surprised to see still floating around, approached them as forensics began to pack everything up. It was well after lunch, but Shepard didn’t think she’d be hungry for days. 

“We got an ID on the victim from CEMS,” Leos said, sounding absolutely exhausted. “Looks like her name is Ziha’Zorah nar Rayya. At the docks, she listed her reason for visit as trade --”

“Zorah nar Rayya?” Vakarian interrupted, sounding like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. Shepard watched him, anxious to find out what had her partner so upset, especially after what they just went through. “Fuck,” he finally muttered, “I need to make a call.”

Vakarian stepped away, leaving Shepard with Leos. Their eyes met, and for one long, terrible moment they just looked at each other. Words seemed elusive. What could they really say?

Finally, Leos let out a shaky breath, and looked like she was fighting off guilt, or pain. “I stood there the whole time. She was alive. I walked past her. Set up a damned barricade.”

Shepard gave her a sympathetic look. “You had no way of knowing. I thought she was gone too. No one would have thought…” Shepard shook her head, the disbelief still clouding her thoughts, “...looking at her, that even an ounce of life was left in her.”

Leos shook her head, refusing the comfort, and accepting her guilt. “I just stood there waiting for you to arrive. Doing nothing to help her.”

Shepard wanted to tell Leos the quarian was dead the moment they gutted her, slit her throat, and took her helmet off. Reading the look in the poor asari’s eyes, though, she knew that’s not what the poor officer wanted to hear. 

“We can only hope CEMS comes through,” Shepard said with a stiff nod. Glancing over to Vakarian, who was leaning against the wall near the stairs back up to the markets, Shepard wondered who the hell he was talking to. He looked upset, apologetic. His reaction had been odd, like he’d recognized the name. Their eyes met, and he sighed, shaking his head. Whoever it was, the conversation wasn’t pleasant. 

By the time forensics packed up, Vakarian was done with his phone call and they headed back to C-Sec. Walking through the markets he told her that the victim was related to someone he knew -- a friend, even. The day was just full of one shock after the next...

“How is the victim’s cousin holding up?” Shepard asked as they entered the elevator up to Homicide. 

“Pissed, but glad that Ziha is alive.”

“I can’t fucking believe she was still hanging on.” Shepard let her shoulders fall, ready for a nap, or a drink. Maybe both. “Think she’ll actually make it?”

Vakarian shrugged. On a good day, he was a realist. On a bad day, a pessimist. So a shrug was probably as positive as he’d allow himself to get considering what happened to the quarian. 

“How do you know Tali again?” Shepard asked, hoping to keep her mind off the spilled bowels and pleading, terrified eyes that glowed from behind her helmet. 

“Worked with her and some other quarians on some geth missions years ago.” He rubbed at his browplates. “A lot actually.”

Shepard offered a weak nod to show him she heard, but she couldn't think of much else to say. The adrenaline crash, and lack of lunch, was probably getting to her. Her mind was getting fuzzy and limbs felt like they each weighed a ton. 

The way the poor quarian lifted her hand up to Vakarian popped into her mind. “Ever seen anything like that before?” Shepard asked, chasing the thoughts away. 

He nodded, “Yeah. Doesn't mean I’m numb to it though.”

“Sick, cruel mother fuckers,” she muttered, fisting her hands and rubbing her fingers along her palms. “What did you do to relax after days like that?”

“Depends on how bad it was. Drink and fuck around with rifle mods. If it was really bad, drink and just fuck until I forgot about it.” 

Shepard started fiddling around with the hem of her jacket, rolling it between her fingers. She had a hard time sitting still when stressed, even when she was exhausted. Maybe that’s what she appreciated most about her close relationship with her partner -- she didn’t hide that piece of her anymore. 

“What would you normally do, back on Earth, after a day like this?” he asked.

“See my Gran, get a hug.” She sighed, missing Earth and being around humans who weren’t Alliance military or embassy staff, neither were her kind of people. “But drinking and fucking works too sometimes. Mostly just swallow it, stuff it down. Guess I have something in common with you turians, hm?”

He offered her a tired smile. “Well I’m not a grandmother, but I can give you a hug.”

She returned the smile, knowing hers was just as tired as his. Without breaking eye contact, his large, muscular figure towered over her as he leaned in a bit closer to her, invading her space to probably offer her that hug. 

“Fuck off,” she said, with her hand on his shoulder as she pushed him back, “I don’t need a goddamn hug.” The thought of needing a hug from her partner made her hate her feelings even more. They were professionals. Adults. She’d been a cop for nearly a decade. She wasn’t a damned inexperienced rookie and didn't need her partner to console her. She needed to buck up, and deal with it like everyone else in Homicide dealt with it. A drink and a nap. 

Letting her push him back he crossed his arms and leaned back against the elevator wall but said, “Look, either take a hug from me, or settle for getting drunk and fucking Kryik.”

Caught so off guard by the joke, a laugh burst out of her. “Oh God. _Fuck me_ ,” she groaned, falling back against the elevator wall, despair and exhaustion wreaking havoc on her state of mind. 

Vakarian shook his head, a smartass grin on his face. “Sorry, all I can offer is a hug, and I’m not really attracted to begging.” She smacked his arm with the back of her hand, though she knew it would only encourage him. “Sounds like Kryik is very interested in your clitoris though, whatever it is.”

She laughed again, then nearly doubled over from the sudden onslaught of chuckling which Vakarian soon joined in on. They were two idiots standing in the elevator laughing with what little energy they had left in them. What started out as a rolling chuckle, though, grew to a desperate and loud laugh that washed all the stress out of her and made her cheeks hurt. 

After a moment and a couple of floors gained by the elevator, their laughter died down, and silence enveloped the small, enclosed space while they ascended the few floors left before they hit Homicide. She crossed her arms, the last huffs of laughter left her and her chest settled down while they patiently waited for the doors to open. 

But before she could tell it was coming a single tear dropped out of her stinging eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was on the edge of crying until it was too late. And she desperately wanted to hide her pathetic display of emotion, but Vakarian took a breath in and based on the way he stiffened, she knew he already smelled her tears. _God damn turians and their super senses._

“Fuck, sorry,” she said while turning away from the doors that were about to open, wiping at her cheek roughly, hoping to get herself together before anyone out in the hall could see. 

She didn't want Vakarian to pity her, or worse, lose confidence in her. She was fine, but that crime scene was unlike anything she’d worked. She had never cried at work before, and she was proud of that. A few times she cried _after_ work, but mostly in her Gran’s arms and always far away from anyone who might treat her differently for letting her emotions get the best of her. 

Without saying a word, though, her partner stepped closer to her, punched the key to keep the doors closed, and rested a hand on her shoulder. He waited for her to push him away or say she was fine. But she didn't want to. 

She didn't want to accept his offer, but a hug sounded really nice and he was her best option out here on this damned space station. So she stood still, eyes locked on the floor and internally begging him to wrap his arms around her without having to ask for it.

As if he read her mind, Vakarian’s strong arms enveloped her and pulled her tight against his chest. He was a lot warmer than she expected. With the adrenaline rush over, she realized how cold she felt, how shaky her hands were, but Vakarian was like a warm comforter wrapping around her and chasing the chill away. She willed her muscles to relax, despite the stress from being at that horrific crime scene and the fear of seeming weak by accepting an embrace from her partner, and she buried her head in his chest. 

For the first time since transferring to C-Sec, living and working on an unfamiliar space station surrounded by alien species who she didn’t even know existed when she was a kid, she knew she wasn’t alone, in any sense. She knew she could rely on Vakarian. For a long time, she’d known that he’d stop a bullet for her, get drunk and bullshit with her, watch vids with her and laugh until her cheeks and his mandibles hurt. But after seeing him with the victim as they waited for CEMS, and how he was holding her so securely in the quiet elevator, she now realized he could be relied on in other ways. She didn’t have to hide her weaknesses from him. She didn't have to pretend like she could handle everything on her own. 

He wasn’t just good for laughs and petty distractions from the hell of their job. He could comfort, and he could soothe, and he could promise that everything would be ok. And if it wasn’t, his promise was enough to make Shepard think that it could be. 

But it meant so much more than that because she didn’t feel ashamed for accepting this kind of support. It felt natural, like the comfort provided by a family member, or best friend. She let him hold her a bit longer, her arms settling around his carapace to return his warm embrace -- because, hell, maybe he needed it too. 

As the light flashed on the elevator panel reminding them the doors were still shut tight, keeping the world out and giving them a moment alone, they held onto each other. Shepard wondered how Livia didn’t see the strong, wonderful man that she saw in Vakarian. Or how lucky Livia was to have him. 


	2. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relaxation and peace seem elusive after a long day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I had on loop:  
> Kill V. Maim, Grimes  
> Praying, Kesha
> 
> Warning: This chapter delves into serious discussions about taking another's life, and sexual harassment is portrayed. I try to handle both responsibly. Let me know if you have any thoughts or feelings.

With Shepard in his arms, Vakarian forgot for just a moment all the anger that burned inside him. He forgot how much his trigger finger itched every time he closed his eyes and saw the bowels and blood.  He forgot how easy it would be to take matters into his own hands, to take care of the monsters that would do something so horrendous to an innocent, defenseless person. Feeling her within his arms reminded him that he was a detective and that his job was to find them and put them away, even though they deserved less civilized punishment. They deserved to have their throats slit, bowels spilled, and to be left for dead without hope of surviving. 

And he could certainly give that to them. 

This little human in his arms had no idea just how much she changed him, saved him, from being the person that  _ would _ give that to them. Even while wearing his badge. 

“Alright,” Shepard took a shaky breath in and playfully pushed Vakarian away, wiping at her wet cheeks. “Let go of me. I don’t want to be the one responsible for making you question your turian-only sexuality,” she deadpanned, and a chuckle rippled through his chest. 

She looked up at him feigning exasperation, “I’m not kidding. That’s a lot of weight to put on my shoulders.”

They laughed as he unwrapped his arms from around her small, soft human body and pressed the door release key on the elevator console. “You watch turian porn. I think I’m the one that needs to be worried about overly intimate contact.”

“Ohhh,  _ you wish _ , Vakarian.” She gave him a tired half-smile that was so familiar and warm it made him smile for no reason other than he enjoyed these moments with her. Somehow, he got lucky with his human partner and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn’t acknowledge that. 

Exiting the elevator they were met with a few officers gathered around the doors and giving them dirty looks, impatiently waiting and angry about the hold-up.  Vakarian and Shepard glared at the officers with enough heat to convey that they weren't in the damned mood to be harassed, which was enough to make every last one of them glance away and hurriedly walk onto the elevator. Sometimes having a reputation around C-Sec as Homicide's best had its perks, like most officers at central knowing who they were and not to fuck with them when they weren't in a good mood. They all knew their bad moods were usually for a good reason, like holding a quarian's hand as she bled out. Telling her not to give up despite the slit throat and bowels casually resting in her own lap . 

They continued down the hall towards Homicide. “Just do me a favor and keep the erogenous zone talk to a minimum tonight. I can go the rest of my life not knowing what a clitoris is.”

As he said that two human officers passed by, giving them queer looks. Shepard and Vakarian glared at them too, because they weren’t even in the mood for suffering through queer looks from beat cops who spent all their time patrolling the wards hunting down kids swiping vid games.

“You never know, you may want to understand human female anatomy someday. Maybe some lucky lady will catch your interest.” She winked at him. And she would have pulled off the impish effect she was going for really well...had it not been for the red, puffy eyes. 

“Unlikely, Shep, I’ve never been attracted to any other species. But I’ll be sure to go to you for advice if that ever happens.”

They walked through the doors into Homicide. Most of their fellow detectives ignored their entrance because they had a mountain of their own work. You’d have to come in guns firing to get that group to pay attention to anything other than the stacks of reports and evidence, or whatever distraction they were using to give their crime scene wary minds a break. The path to their desks seemed agonizingly longer than normal. 

As they reached their desks Kryik and T'Saris both looked up with sympathetic expressions. So, they must have heard about the scene.

“What the fuck?” T'Saris asked, her typically hardened demeanor rife with sympathy. “You guys ok?”

“You two look like shit. Have you eaten?” Kryik asked.

Detectives -- especially turians -- rarely offered that kind of support to each other after working a scene. It had to be really bad. They must have gotten wind of some of the specifics, which wasn’t really surprising -- it wasn’t every day someone was cut open like that and actually still alive. Word would have already gotten around. It was horrific. The energy buzzing through him, his tensing hands, and racing thoughts told him just how much this one got to him. And it was Tali’s cousin, too.  _ Fucking bastards. _

Shepard and Vakarian both shook their heads as they sat down, mimicking each other’s body language as they leaned back and allowed their bodies to succumb to the exhaustion. 

“I’ll order you guys some food.” T'Saris was already typing at her console.

“That quarian must be one tough motherfucker.” Kryik shook his head and let an astonished expression peek through his typically stoic demeanor. 

Vakarian and Shepard didn’t respond to anything else Kryik and T'Saris said. They didn’t have the energy, and honestly, what could they really say?

After a moment of silence Vakarian looked over to Kryik without lifting his head. “Can we go somewhere a bit more low key tonight? I’m not up for Flux.” Even he had his limits when it came to how much stimulation he could handle in one day, but he was still hoping for a welcome distraction after the day they’d had. 

After yawning, putting her strange little pink tongue and dull teeth on full display, Shepard chimed in, “I second that.” 

The reports could wait, they both needed a minute to either process what they just went through, or at least wash it from their minds. Shepard and Vakarian both looked across their desks at each other, and he was certain she saw the same worn out, emotionally exhausted, and horrified sight in him that he saw in her. They both sighed, smiled, and then let their heads fall back. 

A belated lunch eventually got them through reports and at the end of the day they wound up agreeing to go to an asari bar near the docks that was popular with humans, which Kryik and T'Saris both requested. He was pretty sure Shepard readily agreed to the bar because there was zero chance she’d get drunk and lured out on a nonexistent dance floor by Kryik, just so he could give her shit about her sloppy dancing. 

And in the back of his mind, Vakarian thought that maybe Livia would pass on going out to an asari bar near the docks. Maybe she’d stay home and he could just relax with his coworkers. He’d given up on Livia being the type of mate who could help him forget the bad days and offer a little sense of peace in a dark world. Wasn’t her fault. There were other things she was good at. 

He left his jacket at work and rolled up his sleeves -- about as comfortable as he could get without going home first, and if he went home he'd’ stay there. But Shepard had left both her jacket and her shirt at work, choosing to go out in just a tight black tank top she always wore under work shirts. She also changed into some dirty sneakers she always kept at her desk that seemed to be meant for especially dirty crime scenes -- or going out. He wondered if Shep had ever even been in a dress, but didn’t have the nerve to ask her. He got smacked for lesser offenses, and wasn’t willing to take the hit just to find out. 

On the way to the bar he told Livia where they were going and to his disappointment she was still interested, but he figured he could tell her they’d arrived after he had a few minutes to enjoy a drink with his friends. They used to have so much fun together, but lately her mood started out negative and it took a lot of energy to get her comfortable and calm. Energy he just didn't have at the moment. 

He and Shepard walked into the bar together -- the relaxed atmosphere made it seem busy rather than overcrowded. The place catered specifically to humans and asari, who valued comfort and the atmosphere reflected that as well. The wood counter had a warm finish to it and it was intricately carved with what looked like symbols from prothean mythology. Instead of cold metal seats or easy to clean fake leather, the stools were topped with rich asari velvet. For the docks, it was actually really nice. 

It only took a minute to spot Kryik and T’Saris sitting at the bar. Vakarian longed to sit down and enjoy a few minutes of peace bullshitting with his friends but just as they sat down in the seats Kryik and T’Saris saved for them a message pinged on Vakarian’s omni-tool. He dreaded looking down, knowing it was from Livia. He could still just ignore it for a few minutes…

“I like the bar!” Shepard called out to T’Saris over the steady beat of the mellow asari alternative-synth music. 

Shepard and T’saris shouted a few things to each other about the bar and the music, and Kryik argued that it was nice but Flux was still great. Listening to his friends talk and laugh, he pushed Livia’s message to the back of his mind so he could order a drink. 

The annoying thing about going out with Kryik and T’Saris is they were both flirts. But, the nice thing about going out with them was they were very good looking, fun flirts, so the bartender was usually nearby. As Kryik tapped his forearm to Vakarian’s in greeting, Vakarian nudged Kryik with his spur. “Mind letting the bartender serve us?” 

The bartender, a female turian with gorgeous eyes and delicate hips, looked his way with a mandible wide grin. When their eyes met an interested trill traveled form her throat to his ears, sending a flush up her neck. 

“Oh don’t bother with him, he has a mate,” T’Saris shouted, a silly smile slapped on her face and two empty glasses sitting in front of her.

The bartender laughed softly, “Well fortunately for him, I can’t refuse service based on having a mate or not. What can I get you?”

“Horosk,” Vakarian said, trying his best to stifle a trill that threatened to broadcast his immediate attraction to her. She was beautiful, but Livia’s equally beautiful face flashed into his mind and he instantly hated himself for even looking at the other woman. Clearing his throat he looked over to Shepard, who was staring at the wood bar and running her fingers over the delicate carvings. “And what do you want Shep? Whiskey? Beer?”

She pulled her hands away from the carvings so she could place an elbow on the bartop and let her head rest in her hand. “Beer, but I’ll want a whiskey soon after.”

“Hmm, how about we save you some time,” he said to the bartender. “Two horosks, a beer, and a whiskey.”

The bartender returned his smile, nodded with a slight tilt so that her neck flashed just briefly, then left. 

Yeah, he hated himself. 

Once they received their drinks Shepard clutched her beer so tight he wondered if she thought someone was going to wrestle her for it. Her hand reached out to gesture towards his omni-tool. “You got a message when we sat down.”

He almost growled when she pointed that out, because now he wouldn't be able to pretend it didn’t exist. He sucked up his nerve and glanced down to read it. 

_ Livia: Are we going out or not? I’ve been waiting to hear from you. _

He glared down at his omni-tool, trying to figure out what to do. Regardless of how long he delayed finally spending time with her, he’d still be more miserable than he already was. He was tired, and grouchy, and she’d want him to be in a good mood. Because if he wasn’t that meant she didn’t make him happy. And then they’d get in a fight, and he’d have to spend the next three days convincing her she made him happy. And that was becoming less and less an accurate portrayal of his feelings for her. He missed the early days, when they  _ were _ happy and she wasn’t constantly disappointed with everything he did or said. 

He took a long drink of his horosk, savoring the burn of the smoky alcohol on his tongue. He was supposed to be forgetting his shitty day, and instead he was busy worrying about his shitty relationship. Before he fully thought through his plan his fingers started making his decision for him. 

_ Garrus: Sorry, working late now. Pallin’s being an ass. Call you when I get home. _

Fighting the guilt eating away at him he stared down at his omni-tool waiting for her reply. The longer he waited his anxiety built. He could picture her sitting in her apartment, fuming and tapping her talons as she cursed and called him an asshole to herself. A ping came eventually, but only after he’d worked himself up worrying over what she was going to say. 

_ Livia: Sometimes I think you work late on purpose. _

_ Garrus: Liv, please. I’m sorry.  _

_ Livia: Fine.  _

_ Garrus: Sorry. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.  _

“Ouch,” Shepard said, and when he looked up, fully expecting her to be watching some poor sap getting rejected, he saw her eyes glued to his omni-tool instead.

He closed the message and scowled at her, “Since when did I say you’re allowed to look at all my messages?”

She started surveying the room and took a giant gulp of her drink. Then, turning back to him, she shrugged and nudged him with her elbow. “Do you really care if I look at all your messages?”

No, he didn’t, actually. What he cared about was getting caught being an asshole to his mate. “Don’t let her find out about this,” he warned. 

“Oh ok, when she and I get manicures together I’ll be sure to keep your secret.” Shepard punctuated her point with a sly grin. 

Vakarian lifted his drink as Shepard made that smart little remark, and he was sure to give her a dirty look before he pressed his lips to the glass. 

He wasn’t really mad at her, and she knew it, so she just smiled up at him. Her legs started bouncing as she sat on her stool. Her endless energy was impressive sometimes. 

“Hey wanna go to the range tomorrow?” she asked, casual concern on her face. How in the hell had a human become such a wonderful friend?

“Shepard!” Kryik called out from Vakarian’s right side to Shepard, who was on his left. Knowing they were about to revisit their morning discussion, he sincerely regretted sitting between them. “So are you going to just provide some general information, or are you going to give some tips too?”

Shepard’s head fell back as she laughed, “You actually think you can convince a human female to fuck you?”

“I’m just fascinated at this point. Based on what I’ve heard the only thing I can compare it to is the nape on turians.” Spirits take him, Vakarian wasn’t sure if sitting with Livia in a miserable mood or listening to his friend and partner talk about erogenous zones was worse. Obviously he’d thought sitting with Livia was, or she would be there to provide a distraction from those two. He ran a heavy hand over his face and took another drink. 

“Nape?” Curiosity and confusion twisted Shepard’s brows and quirked her lips. 

“Thought you’ve watched turian porn?” Kryik taunted with a smirk. 

“Like on your neck?”

“Yeah, most sensitive place on our bodies, other than the slit.” Kryik lifted a hand up to point at the back of his neck, right beneath the soft plates and hovering just over his nape.

Recognition immediately dawned on Shepard’s face, “ _ Ohhh, _ that’s what all the licking and nipping on the back of the neck was about.”

Vakarian rolled his eyes, asking any deity that had the slightest possibility of existing to make these two to shut up. Why couldn’t they just talk about normal, fun things, like weapon mods and optimizing algorithms?

Blessed silence passed between them for a moment. All Vakarian could hear was the chatter of the bar and loud music, which he could put up with. Even though she was silent, Shepard was thinking entirely too hard about this nape concept. The wheels in her head turned just as clearly as when she was working on a case. Out of the corner of his eye Vakarian saw Kryik watching her, chuckling softly to himself. Almost startling Vakarian, Shepard threw her arms up, “ _So_ _many_ overheard locker conversations are starting to make sense!”

When Vakarian turned to make sure Shepard saw the incredulous look on his face he noticed a male human hovering over her shoulder. Although she was oblivious to the guys’ presence the guy was gawking, watching her with lovestruck eyes and clearly gathering up the nerve to talk to her. 

As much as it made him lose respect for the guy, Vakarian understood. She was energetic and blunt, and she seemed so much bigger than she was. Even though she was small, her body was strong, and tight, and she carried herself and talked to people like there was no question she was in charge. It had pulled Vakarian in almost from the moment they met, too. If she were a turian, he’d probably react to her the same way. 

Eventually catching on that Vakarian was staring at something, she followed his eye line and looked over her shoulder to see the guy. As soon as she looked at him he grinned so wide he could compete in a salarian smiling contest. 

As soon as she laid eyes on him Shepard instantly smiled back. “Hi.”

“God, you are fucking gorgeous,” the guy blurted, making Shepard laugh in delighted surprise while Vakarian and Kryik exchanged a look. They were about to lose Shepard. “Alliance?”

Vakarian watched her body language, she liked the guy. And he looked like most of the guys she was into -- fit, light hair. Blonde, is what humans called it. “C-Sec,” she answered with a proud smile. 

“I could have sworn you’re Alliance.”

“Oh yeah?” Shepard tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward a little bit.

“You look like you could be the commander of a ship.”

Kryik and Vakarian barked out laughing at the guy’s ridiculous line, but Shepard shot them both a dirty look over her shoulder. Vakarian might have felt bad for laughing if the guy wasn’t so wrapped up in Shepard -- he didn’t even notice the two turians laughing at him. 

Quickly regaining her stride, though, she gave the guy her best smile. “Well how about I lead you to that corner over there, and we can get away from these idiots?” Shepard blinked her eyes rapidly -- batting eyelashes was a flirting thing for humans, she had told him once. Vakarian thought she just looked kind of crazy. 

And with that Shepard swept the guy off his feet and into a corner, where they quickly started making out. The poor enamored guy soon found himself in heaven, sitting on a stool with Shepard straddling his lap, and Vakarian was certain that whatever humans called kissing was certainly not conducive to breathing. 

Vakarian felt Kryik’s elbow in his side, nudging to get his attention because he’d been watching Shepard. He was always a bit protective when she wandered off with guys, but he was also staring because kissing was  _ strange _ . He always caught himself staring when humans or asari wrapped their lips around one another's', but when Shepard did it he spent even more time trying to dissect just what it was about kissing that humans and asari found appealing. Maybe because she did it so enthusiastically. 

“It looks weird huh, kissing?” Kryik said. “Ever thought of making out with a human or asari before, just to see what it’s like?” 

“Not really, looks terrible.” Thinking of his mate sitting at her apartment, upset at him and alone, Vakarian shifted in his seat and took a drink. But he kept watching Shepard as she rocked her hips up against the guy. He sat under her, looking as if he was drowning in an ocean, wave after wave slapping over him. Granted, he’d never seen a guy so happy to be drowning. But still. 

Maybe the commander comment wasn’t so far off, actually. 

Kryik broke Vakarian’s thoughts with a soft laugh.

Vakarian, peeling his eyes off Shepard, turned back to look at Kryik, “Hm?”

“She told me this morning I couldn’t handle her, I think she’s actually right about that.”

Vakarian nodded with a tired smile. Shepard was such a little ball of fire, and she was going to engulf that guy.

“It’s always made sense why you and Shepard get along, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” Vakarian wasn’t really interested in the answer, he was starting to wish he was at home. Shepard may have endless energy, but he didn’t.

“I’m surprised you’ve never thought of something more with Shepard, even though she’s human. She’s your type, you know.” 

“I don’t have a type,” Vakarian could barely get the words out, for some reason agitation built up within him as Kryik so comfortably delved into love and relationships, bringing up thoughts and feelings Vakarian always avoided like a thresher maw nest. Especially with Kryik. 

“You do, and it’s not Livia. When we were younger you always chose women who were full of life, and funny, and tough as a fucking krogan.” 

Vakarian opened his mouth to thoroughly deny that but Kryik just kept talking. “I get it, Livia was safe. I’m sure deep down you knew there was no risk of losing your heart to her.”

“Dammit Nih,” Vakarian muttered, letting his subvocals and clenched mandibles send the message since he didn’t have the words to express how angry Kryik was making him. 

“Where is Livia, hm?” And just when Vakarian was about to tell Kryik to back off, Kryik got a look in his eye that said he was fully aware Vakarian wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “Shepard reminds me of Cama”. 

Anger leaped up in Vakarian faster than he could register it. Memories and images of the only woman he’d ever loved surged through his tired and slightly drunk brain. Her beautiful happy face as she rested in his arms. Her sad eyes the last time they saw each other and she crushed his soul. Five years after they said goodbye he still missed her with every breath he took and every beat of his heart. It was low, and Kryik had to know that just mentioning her name would send him reeling. 

Vakarian found himself growling while trying to push memories of her deep down. “I spent all day at that crime scene. I don’t need your analytical shit tonight.”

Kryik wasn't listening though, he was too busy sharing his unwelcome opinions. “Shepard’s so much like Cama -”

“No, she’s fucking not,” Vakarian finally snapped. He loved Kryik like a brother, but the guy had no idea when to back off. 

He felt Kryik’s eyes watching while waiting for his growl to die down. And only a second after it finally did, Kryik said, “Well, I can’t imagine Shepard ever letting you down, so she’s not completely like Cama, hm?”

Vakarian was barely listening to Kryik by that point, and didn’t feel obligated to respond anymore. Of course Kryik thought he was helping, but all he was doing was pissing Vakarian off and forcing him down an even darker and more depressing hole than he’d already been dangling over.

Vakarian didn’t want to hear it. Any of it. He didn’t want to compare Shepard to Cama because that would just make him start to pick apart Shepard’s personality and habits for no reason. Shepard was wonderful, and she didn’t deserve that. And most of all, he didn’t want to think about the only woman he had ever loved, the one who had broken his heart so deeply he swore he’d never allow himself to get that close to anyone ever again. Shepard was starting to test that pact he’d made with himself, but at least she was just a human, and just a friend. 

And most of all, he didn’t want to admit that Livia was wonderful, and beautiful, but he would never love her like he loved Cama. 

***

When Shepard saw T'Saris saying goodbye to Vakarian and Kryik she wandered back over so she could join in on the ‘goodnights’. 

After T'Saris left, Kryik turned to Shepard, “Not going home with the human?”

“No,” Shepard said coolly. Her cheeks were sore from grinning so much and lips numb from making out for so long. The guy was sweet and had been a nice little distraction. “He was pretty hot, though, hm?”

“Can’t say I’m attracted to human males,” Kryik said. “But if he was so hot why aren’t you leaving with him?”

“When I meet a guy I really like I get stupid. I got his number though, in case I get bored later.” 

After flashing Kryik a grin Shepard glanced over at her partner, who was leaning over the bar cradling his drink. She knew her partner well, almost like the back of her hand nowadays. He was upset about something, Shepard read it easily in his tense shoulders and tight mandibles. “Why are you so quiet?” She nudged him with her shoulder and offered a playful smile, hoping to pick him up. 

She watched him sigh then sit up straighter as if gathering up his energy. “It’s getting late, I’m ready to be home.” Vakarian stood up then, looking like the weight of the galaxy was pushing him down as he raised his omni-tool to pay his tab. 

She knew it was something more than being tired, and knew that if he went home alone he’d just keep sliding down that slope and would wind up even worse off tomorrow. Vakarian was one to pull away and isolate himself, and the longer she let that happen the thicker his shell would be and the harder she’d have to work to crack him out of it. “It’s not that late, come on.” She nudged him playfully with her hip, which got a queer look from him. Sure, maybe it was too playful, but he needed some prodding. “Come over and hang out.”

Thankfully he agreed, and with Kryik in tow, the three of them left together. Only two steps out the door she saw two Alliance guys, dog tags clearly announcing their affiliation, leaning against the wall, eyeing her group. She noted the clear look of disgust and anger and wished she hadn’t, because she couldn’t keep herself from glaring back at them. The bouncers, a female turian and an asari, were at least thirty feet away arguing with a krogan who didn’t want to go home, even though he clearly had vomit trickling down his chin in a putrid green trail of slime. 

“Fucking turians sure helps you get ahead out here, huh?” one of the Alliance guys called out. 

Without a beat, as if she was expecting it, the asari bouncer yelled over to them, “We told you assholes to stop harassing women leaving the bar. Knock it the fuck off.” For added effect the turian bouncer shot the Alliance guys a very threatening glare before turning back to the krogan. 

Shepard should have just kept walking, just like Vakarian and Kryik were. She should have ignored the guy. But she was sick of it. Her day had been shitty enough and she had enough alcohol in her to make her not give a fuck about the consequences of her actions. She’d been on the station three years and was entirely sick of the racist bullshit. She was sick of being accused of riding a turian’s coattails to get ahead, and this asshole didn’t even know everything they said about her at C-Sec. Having enough sense to not use words, though, she let her middle finger do the talking. 

They only made it a few feet before the guy slurred, “Takes a lot of energy to let two turians tag team you.” It wasn’t just the words that struck the final nerve, it was the chuckling that bled from the humans like an auditory plague. It infected her, filling her with rage. Instantly the two Alliance men represented all the men they put behind bars for letting their self-hatred fester and rot until they took it out on women with vitriol and violence. Did the men who attacked Ziha shout obscenities at her? Did they treat her like she existed just for their amusement? Like she was an object to be debased and used? 

Shepard stopped. A quick glance told her the bouncers were tied up with the krogan who was starting to get shove-y. Although she could feel Vakarian’s hand gently grasp her arm to convince her to just leave, she stuck to her objective. Taking three quick strides towards the guy she shoved his friend out of the way and laid her fist into his jaw with enough force to make him stumble back. Stupid, sure. It hurt like hell and was a dumb place to punch someone, but it was oh so satisfying. 

“Fucking bitch,” the guy spat, swaying for a moment as he tried to catch his balance. Recovering, he stepped forward, his furious eyes looking her up and down. Shepard held her clenched fist at her side, trying her damndest not to let on that her hand was throbbing. More alcohol would fix that.

“I’m getting real sick of the cock envy you piece of shits have,” Shepard calmly said, crossing her arms and staring the guy down. 

The guy’s friend eyed Vakarian and Kryik, thinly hiding the apprehension he clearly felt looking at the two muscular turians that towered over them. “You gonna tell your boyfriends to beat us up?” he mocked, a slight shake in his voice. Vakarian and Kryik who, to their credit, casually stood behind her and were barely interested in what the guy was saying.

Vakarian looked the two men over briefly. “I’m more than slightly offended you think we’re dumb enough to get into a fight with two Alliance soldiers,” he drawled, a single mandible flicking up just briefly as he crossed his arms and cocked out a hip. 

Kryik, in a similar stance, added dryly, “She can handle you two.”

Vakarian then laughed, deep and rumbly, “We’re just here to look pretty.”

Shepard knew her turian friends had no interest in fighting the guys, mostly because they knew Pallin would nail their asses to the wall, but also because no one would be pleased with two retired Hierarchy special ops picking on Alliance soldiers at an asari bar. That one might even make the news. Otherwise, Kryik would take them both out, all by himself, before either saw him coming. 

Both guys glanced at the bouncers, probably hoping they could rely on them to step in. They had to know by now they picked a fight with the wrong people.

The guy she had already punched looked back at her. “Go on home, honey, so your skullface boyfriends ca--” but the guy didn’t get to finish because Shepard had already nailed her fist into his stomach. Much softer than the jaw, and more damage to the asshole. Better choice, and the way the guy lurched forward made it just as satisfying as punching his jaw. 

“They’re my co-workers, you limp-dick bitch, but if I want to take them both home and let them fuck me until I can’t walk, that’s none of your goddamn business.  _ Fuck off. _ ”

While he righted himself his friend looked over to Kryik and Vakarian again, and did nothing to help the guy with a mouth bigger than his balls. And that big-mouthed asshole didn’t know when to shut up, either. Holding a hand to his gut, a smart ass look on his face made it clear he was going to say something else that would piss her off even more, and she wanted to shut him up before he had the chance. She raised her fist, ready to land another blow, anger burning and blood pumping. In her mind she could see his dumb face and her fist breaking his damn nose. 

Just as she pulled her fist back she faintly heard one of the bouncers shout something their way while a large turian arm wrapped around her waist and three turian fingers wrapped around her balled-up hand. Suddenly she felt weightless as Vakarian’s arms pulled her back and off the ground. 

“Alright,” Vakarian drawled, amusement flavoring his tone in stark contrast to her fuming rage, “I think we’ve had enough fun tonight. Come on Shep.” For the second time that day his arms saved her from a tricky situation, just when she needed him. 

Laughing softly, Kryik turned to the bouncers, “It’s alright, we’re getting her out of here.”

And that was that. Her turian partner kept her from kicking an Alliance soldier's ass. Vakarian didn’t put her raging body down until they were down the block and around a corner. She may have been outwardly throwing a fit about the whole thing by wiggling around in his arms, but inwardly she was thankful Vakarian was always there for her. Even when she would have rather kicked a dude’s ass and paid the price for it. Vakarian had her back, though, and helped her keep her head on straight. 

A short skycar ride and an even shorter walk gave her enough time to calm down. Shepard and Vakarian walked through her apartment door, taking turns stepping around Rocket. The cat wove an intricate pattern from Shepard’s legs to Vakarian’s and back, like a little fluffy worm, while he chirped some nonsense that only he understood. Shepard smiled realizing Vakarian had gotten just as good at delicately stepping around her silly cat who fully expected creatures much larger than him to not step on or trip over him.

With the cat fed and appeased, and Shepard and Vakarian fed and appeased, they each got their own drinks and wandered over to the living room together. Shepard turned on the fireplace for the little cat and the large turian who both appreciated the warmth. 

They settled in, Shepard nestled in the deep couch cushions and Vakarian sat down on the floor by her legs and as close to her fireplace as possible. As they sat in peace, the warm glow illuminated the dim room and cast shadows that danced on the walls, the furniture, even on Vakarian’s solemn face. It reminded her of the way the overhead lights kept flickering as they sat with Ziha and waited for CEMS. Away from the distractions at work and the noise of the bar, Shepard couldn't get images of the poor quarian out of her head. No matter how hard she chased them, they hammered back in, unwilling to let her relax and forget about the horror. Bowels sitting in her lap so casually, like it was normal for them to be there. Her blood seeping from stab wounds across her stomach and chest. Her throat sliced open. The way her chest struggled to rise, and was all too quick to fall. And that look in Ziha’s eyes as she watched Vakarian telling her it would all be ok.

“What’d Kryik do to piss you off back at the bar?” She knew it had to be something Kryik said, because he was constantly saying something that invaded Vakarian’s comfort zone. If they weren’t completely different colorings with drastically different clan markings, she would have thought they were brothers when she first started working with them. 

“He thought tonight would be an excellent time to make me think about the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

Shepard huffed in response, acknowledging how dumb that was. She didn’t know anything about that story, but she at least understood Vakarian well enough to never ask about it. Then she realized that he never hid that stuff from her, because he trusted her not to talk about it. 

She watched Vakarian’s strong chest rise and fall slowly, steadily, and remembered how horrible and anxious she felt watching Ziha use her last remnants of strength to keep breathing. There was something surreal, and terrifying, watching someone, expecting each breath to be their last. 

Amidst the cloud of alcohol dulling her senses Shepard finally realized the sobering truth -- those images would never go away. Not tonight, not ever. 

This was the case. Every detective had that case, the one that changed them forever. Shepard let out a shallow breath, watching Vakarian relax with his gaze on the fire, and propped her tired head up with a hand. The room was quiet, but Shepard couldn't decide if it was unnerving or cozy. Her hoarse voice finally sliced through the silence, “Have you ever seen someone die?”

The look on Vakarian’s face instantly made her realize what a stupid question that was. Of course he had, he was a goddamn sniper in special ops. A better question, though she’d never ask it something so horrible and personal, would have been ‘how many people have you personally killed, and did you ever cut someone clean open like they cut Ziha open’. A shiver ran up her spine.

He took a slow drink from his glass. “You never have, hm?” 

Shepard tucked her legs up under her even tighter, drawing within herself for warmth and comfort, and probably to keep her legs from bouncing around like they always ached to do when she thought about stuff she didn’t want to. “No. I’ve only seen people alive or dead, no in-between. No confusing moments that make me question just how long we all have on this…” she stopped there, realizing just how slow her brain was getting from the alcohol. “I’m not on Earth. You know what I mean.” She waved her hand in the air, “How long we have, wherever we are.”

Then she asked what she should have from the start of this conversation. “Are you used to it? Seeing shit like that?”

He was quiet for a moment, and she really hoped he was going to say no. Because she wasn’t quite sure what she’d think about herself, and her ability to keep doing this job, if he made any indication that what they just went through that day was normal for him. That it was ok and he’d just go on like it hadn’t happened.

His eyes stayed on his drink. Or maybe he was looking at his hands. “I’m used to seeing a little speck of a person,” he held up his fingers to indicate how small a body would look to him through his scope, “dropping down after I pull a trigger. I’m used to snapping a neck, letting a body fall as I walk away.” He took another slow drag from his glass. “You never get used to holding someone’s hand as they fade away, though. The crying, the begging...I hate it.”

“Is that why you left the Hierarchy after enlistment? You couldn't take it anymore?”

“Ten years is enough.” He sighed, seemingly thinking of something. Then his eyes hazed, some kind of dark thoughts invading his consciousness. He looked at her for a moment, and she could tell he was considering whether or not he should say whatever he was thinking. 

“I got sick of shooting people,” he eventually said. “And there’s only so much you can do to challenge yourself after ten years. You can only nail a person between the eyes so many times before you start wondering what would happen if you shot them somewhere else. And ten seconds after I indulged that curiosity by shooting a drell in the throat I decided I’d get out when my conscription was up.” 

Shepard nearly choked on the brandy she was trying to swallow. “Fuck, Garrus,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. 

His head turned to look up at her, and after making sure he hadn’t completely scared her off he continued, “I ended it a second later, clean shot that took him out. I’d also like to mention that he was part of a merc group that set off an explosion at a colony. Took out a couple families.” He paused, and ran a hand over his fringe. “But...guess I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

His story ran through her head as she remembered how much fun they always had at the shooting range together. How lighthearted he always looked. The joy she saw in him when they shot targets didn’t seem to match up with the darkness he just revealed. “But you like shooting. You  _ love _ it.”

Vakarian shrugged, staring down at his drink, “I like being good at things.”

“Please tell me you’re not thinking like that when we’re at the shooting range, laughing and bullshiting.”

“No. I don’t think much of anything when I shoot. It clears your mind. Blank space. No worries, no doubts. No thoughts. Just breathe, click, pop. Repeat. Sometimes there’s a living body on the end of your scope, sometimes just a target.” 

Shepard only realized she was staring at him with mild shock written all over her face when he turned to face her, and he looked truly sorry for what he said.

Fueled by guilt, because she hated seeing him doubt himself, she gently nudged his shoulder with her knee. “It’s ok. You don’t have to hide that shit from me.” He didn’t say anything, but she swore she could see him relax a little, like a load had been taken off his shoulders. Hearing him confess that to her, and how just telling him he didn’t have to hide himself from her, all his dark thoughts and weaknesses, made her feel awful for thinking she couldn't cry in front of him. He trusted her, and she should have known he’d never judge her for her weaknesses. 

They sat in silence a while longer, enjoying the peace and comfort her home offered them after a grueling day. The flames flickered. Every once and awhile they heard the soft padding of Rocket’s footsteps as he patrolled the apartment. 

Vakarian finally sighed, trying to ignore Rocket who had eventually wandered over and was dancing in circles on his tiptoes asking for attention. “Killing people...you get used to it, Shep.” 

Shepard accepted his truth with a nod, and would have protested the loss of silence if Vakarian’s voice wasn’t so warm and soothing. 

He continued, “Just like you’re used to seeing dead bodies and treating them like evidence instead of people. But... it just makes me wonder who attacked Ziha. What have they done that led up to doing that to someone? Can you imagine what they’re used to?”

“We should check records, see if there’s any similar attacks. Might lead to some suspects.”

Vakarian finally petted Rocket then picked up a nearby toy and dangled it for the excited cat, who’s eyes dilated to the size of dinner plates. “It’s someone else’s problem now. Unless she dies, Assault & Battery will take it over.”

“Fuck...I keep forgetting that she’s alive,” Shepard said, shaking her head. “Isn’t that horrible? It’s like my brain can’t believe she could live through that.” 

“To be fair, your brain is swimming in enough alcohol to tell you that nuzzl...kissing that creepy, unattractive guy was a good idea.”

“Hey, he was attractive.”

“He had a weird eye thing. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Fuck off, no he didn’t.”

“And his nose looked like someone dropped a bowl on it.” She had said that once and it had mutually become their favorite insult. It instantly made them laugh. Everytime. Including this one.

“Alright. Now I know you’re fucking me.” 

His browplate rose, and he looked at her like she just proved his point. It made her pause, carefully replaying what she had just said.

“Fuck, I mean fucking  _ with  _ me.” She chuckled. “Dammit I  _ am  _ drunk. But he was attractive. And he wasn’t creepy -- what’s so wrong with wanting someone who’ll worship you?” 

“A lot, unless you worship them right back,” he quickly replied, suddenly dry and bitter. 

“Garrus…” she sighed, wishing she could understand where to go with that comment. Somehow, homicidal confessions were easier to navigate with Vakarian than those of a romantic nature. Waiting for her to finish her sentence his head turned to look up at her attentively, and he seemed more vulnerable than she’d seen him all day. It brought up a desire to protect him, instead of berate him. “I adore you and all the weird and wonderful things about you.”

He smiled at that while slowly swirling the dwindling liquid in his glass. The look on his face told her he knew it was true.

With a heavy sigh he returned to the case, “Let’s keep hoping it’ll be handed off to someone tomorrow, but we’ll pass along everything we have.” 

He finished off his drink and set the empty glass on the coffee table -- and even to her drunk ass she could tell his depth perception was off. “Mind if I stay here tonight? I don’t think I’d make it much further than your door, and I’m sure you don’t want to step over my hungover body on your way to work in the morning.”

“Yeah, can you make it to your home away from home, or do you want me to bring you a blanket?”

“I can make it.”

Shepard paused, realizing just how often he passed out in her spare bedroom, either drunk or exhausted from working late. “Livia never gets upset about you staying here?”

“Why do you think I’m dumb enough to tell her when I stay here?”

Shepard let out a huff of a laugh and she momentarily forgot about her promise to protect him instead of berate him. “Real strong relationship you’re building there, Garrus. Built on trust and respect and…”

“Fuck off, Shep.” 

“Fricken tell me to fuck off,” she mumbled, only a hint of threat in her inebriated, pouty voice. She nudged his shoulder with her knee, which he answered by shoving his elbow into her thigh. They went back and forth like that, nudging and elbowing each other with just enough force for it to be annoying until they both lost interest, or got too tired. 

“You gonna be able to sleep?” he asked, his voice filled with warmth, reminding her of how warm and comforted she felt when he wrapped his arms around her in the elevator. 

“Like a fucking rock,” she knocked back the last of her drink. “I've never had trouble sleeping, once I pass out at least.” 

They sat together a bit longer, watching the flames dance in the dim room. As Shepard leaned in against the back of the couch, Vakarian tucked in so that the couch cushion supported his fringe but didn’t push against his carapace. Shepard mused to herself how strange their bodies were. Turians were beautiful, strong, and strikingly elegant, but they were still strange to her in many ways. 

He looked so peaceful. As he closed his eyes she felt such a comfortable bond with him that the urge to reach out and smooth a soothing hand over his fringe, just like he did when he was stressed about something, sparked up in her. 

Watching his handsome face soften with complete relaxation she blinked, realizing a hug was enough intimate contact between them for one day. Deciding she needed to sleep off the day and those thoughts, her legs shot her upright before she was ready. She swayed a bit as she nearly barked out, “Well, I think I need to get to bed.”

“Night Shep,” he casually called to her as she took deliberate steps out of the room to ensure her drunk ass didn’t wind up on the floor. She took one last glance back at him to see his eyes still closed and his body reclined back in peace. Offering him a safe place where he could relax and just be himself made her happy. She accepted him just as he was, and after her little episode in the elevator, she realized that he accepted her as well. All her faults and quirks. Even the fact that she went from crying to making out in a bar to beating the shit out of an Alliance asshole in a matter of only a few hours. 

With those thoughts in mind, she navigated the staircase leading to her bedroom carefully. And she nearly made it without incident. But just as she placed her foot on the last step Rocket shot past her, nearly tripping her and knocking her down the entire flight of stairs.

“Fucking cat!” she hissed, but he couldn't even be bothered to look back at her. The wrecker of havoc. In a flash he disappeared into her bedroom, his black body blending in with the darkness. 

_ What a fucking day. _


	3. Apricus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Vakarian get a surprise from Pallin

“Wakey wakey,” Shepard’s voice sang through Vakarian’s barely operating consciousness. After only a moment he remembered being at her apartment, drinking, and passing out in her spare bedroom. Which is where he was currently sprawled out on a bed, blankets and pillows haphazardly tucked and twisted around him. Quick tapping followed her cheerful voice. She was knocking on the door. And she had woken him up. 

He peeked an eye open to see her standing in the doorway, a bright smile on her face as she lazily chewed on a breakfast bar. An irritated, tired drawl rolled out of him. He rested his head back on the pillow gently, careful not to jostle his poor brain, while closing his one open eye for a few more seconds of rest in the warm, familiar bed. “I have a headache. How do you not have a headache?”

“I’ve been up for an hour,” she replied, her voice now verging on downright chipper. “And I already took my pain reliever and guzzled about a gallon of water.” She was way too awake and happy for hydration and pain killers to be the only explanation. There was something more to her cheerful energy. 

That’s when Vakarian heard the explanation for her chipper mood, the one thing that would make his headache infinitely worse – wailing, crying, pleading vocals set to soft, steady beats traveling from her kitchen. _Soul music._

He groaned in complaint. Although it hurt his head to protest her favorite music, he needed her to know she had to turn it off. Her energizing, happy, wake up music was his nightmare. 

No relief came, though. She simply stood there, chewing so loud she sounded like a rutting krogan.

“I need some coffee,” he grumbled when she didn’t offer to end his auditory torture. 

“Come on big guy, drag yourself out of bed and we’ll get some coffee. My treat.”

In defiance, he pulled the blanket up over his head. “Turn the music off and I’ll come out.”

“You are such a baby.” She laughed, and even though her laughter was soft it still pierced his ears. Her footsteps sounded as she walked away, the door sliding closed behind her.

As soon as Shepard left he peeled himself out of bed, cleaned up and got dressed, then made his way to the kitchen to join her. Coming around the corner, he was about to complain that the music was still playing but seeing her immediately caused his chest to fill with warmth. 

She belted out declarations of love along with the song’s lyrics, and while her execution was out of key and honestly absolute murder to his hangover sensitive ears, she sang with all her heart. Her hips swayed, almost in time with the music even, as she danced around and teased Rocket with treats. The fluffy little animal turned in circles and shifted around on the tips of his toes, his tail vibrating excitedly. It almost looked like he was dancing along with her. Seeing her so happy, so relaxed and so...herself, made him forget his own physical misery and appreciate moments like this with her instead. 

It only took a few pleading grumbles, albeit made while he still smiled at her, to get Shepard out the door. As promised, she took them to a coffee shop just outside the entrance to C-Sec headquarters, but it was technically located on the Presidium. C-Sec and Embassy staff crowded inside the shop waiting for their morning fix. A few officers they worked with on cases every once and awhile waved good mornings to them. The morning sun sparkled over Presidium Lake and trees lined the sidewalks. It was obvious to him why she came here for coffee...the location offered an energetic but easy introduction to the waking world. 

They ordered their coffee and tucked themselves into a corner. While energizing everyone else around him, the Presidium morning sun was enough to kill him. He looked down at the floor to offer a little relief from the light that pierced his sensitive eyes. The only thing he could see was their feet and with nothing better to do he took a moment to consider how small and flat Shepard’s odd feet were. He was horrified to see she had those filthy shoes on that she wore to the bar last night. 

If there was one thing he’d break his hangover induced silence for, it was mocking his partner. It was a mocking born from concern, of course, but still mocking. He just didn’t want his partner walking around looking like a duct rat. “You need some new shoes, Shep. Those are repulsive. And I think you’re getting holes in them.”

She shifted her feet around, looking her shoes over. Unconcerned, she said, “They’re not actually that dirty, they’re just really faded.” She used the toe of one shoe to rub a small spot on the side of the other then mumbled, “Mostly.” 

He barely held in his teasing grin to fabricate a disgusted look and said, “Is that vomit from last month’s drell case?”

She smacked him – not as gently as he would have liked considering his hangover – with the back of her hand. It was hard enough to knock his restrained grin loose so that his mandibles lifted in a toothy smile. Bearing her physical retaliation was worth it, though, because riling her up was just about the most enjoyable part of his day. 

“Well I don’t usually wear these to the office. I left my boots in my desk and I had to wear _something_ in.”

“So they’re not good enough to wear to work, but they _are_ good enough to pick up guys at the bar.”

She rolled her eyes. “Guys don’t give a fuck what kind of shoes you wear.” 

“I wouldn't pick-up a woman who wore shoes like that.”

“Well if I ever want you to pick me up, I promise I’ll change my shoes,” she shot him a teasing glance and a cute little smile that easily coaxed one out of him in return. Her voice softened when she said, “I like these. They were brand new when I moved to the Citadel, so they have sentimental value.”

“Can’t you get new shoes on the Citadel? Asari shoes must fit you.”

“I don’t want asari shoes. I want these tennis shoes.” As she inspected her shoes her face held a terribly melancholy consternation, as if she was contemplating the state of the galaxy instead of merely inspecting something that deserved to be tossed in the garbage bin. That sentimental look instantly made him regret making fun of them, though, because they obviously meant something to her. 

Just as he was about to apologize and withdraw his advice to replace the shoes, his omni-tool chimed. He immediately let out a hissing curse as his heart leapt up into his throat, because he knew exactly who the message was from and could pretty accurately guess exactly what it said.

“What?” Shepard looked up from her shoes, alarm pinching her brows.

“I never messaged Liv before I fell asleep. She’s going to be pissed.” Looking from the message to Shepard, Vakarian’s mandibles clicked in tight. “I don’t even want to see what this message says.”

“Want me to look?” She stood up on her toes and peered over to take a peek. “I’ll tell you how bad it is.”

“No, I’d rather you keep thinking I’m perfect. Any message from Livia may lower your opinion of me.”

“A disparaging message from your mate isn’t enough for me to doubt your undeniable perfection,” she flashed a wide smile at him that stole his focus. She made it so easy to ignore anything unpleasant because she was so bright and happy. Like sunshine itself. Actual sunshine, not the fake sun rays created by Citadel tech. A flush of warmth shot up his neck when the term apricus popped into his mind – full of sunlight. 

As he stared at her, basking in her natural happiness, she playfully nudged his waist with her elbow and only a second after the cups were placed on the counter picked up their coffees. And just like that, a simple smile and nudge with her elbow, Shepard lifted his spirits. 

“Stop teasing,” he told her, taking his coffee from her and following her through the crowd on their way out of the shop. “I’m a sucker for flattery, even when it’s false.” 

“Believe me, your vanity is well-established at this point. And who says I’m teasing?” 

“Clearly my mother is paying you off. It’s not normal to be this nice and supportive. Unless you’re getting something out of it.”

Shepard laughed at that. “If that were true your mom would be in some _serious_ debt.”

He narrowed a dramatically suspicious look at her. “She _did_ just say she’s thinking of selling that asari landscape piece she loves.”

She shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. “You caught us. Your mom is selling her beloved belongings to fund the supplementation of her grown-ass son’s self-esteem. _Impeccable_ detective work, Mr. Vakarian.”

 _Undeniable perfection._ She’d actually said that he was undeniably perfect. For some reason that rang through his head. And her smile looked sincere rather than teasing. Spirits, she was talking nonsense. Flattering, over-indulgent nonsense that was certainly not based on reality. For some reason his hand lifted to rub at his chest, then he realized a warm knot had settled there. 

Trying to ignore that knot, he kept joking with her. “Three years of constant flattery. What’s the going rate for that?”

“Annually? 100k credits, at least.”

“Ouch, pretty steep.”

“Oh, I have to charge extra, because I have to lie so much. And they’re big lies, too, let me tell you. _You are so good at hacking into things, Vakarian. You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen, Vakarian. You solved that case all on your own, Vakarian._ ”

To keep with their game he held back the light laugh that tickled his throat. “Hm, must be exhausting. Does she tell you what to say, or do you have to come up with it all on your own?”

“She gives me general ideas to work from, but a lot of my compliments are sort of spur of the moment and topical.”

“Ah, so it requires a great deal of creativity.”

“Yup.”

“Well, you do good work. Obviously, my mom’s debt is worth it because my self-esteem has never been higher than these past three years being your partner.” 

“Listen, if you're going to do something, you have to do it right.” She winked at him then. 

He was about to tease her for sounding like his father, which had absolutely been her intent when she’d said that, when they turned a corner heading towards the elevator and a C-Sec officer stumbled into him. The fool was in such a rush and was so oblivious to her surroundings that she nearly knocked his coffee out of his hand. He steadied it, though, just as the officer’s hand landed on top of his to keep it from spilling. 

“Spirits,” the officer, a female turian, muttered. “I am so sorry, I’m in a hurry.”

“No problem,” Vakarian replied, then looked down at her badge, “Officer Regitus.”

She smiled, awkwardly and eagerly, while her mandibles fluttered nervously. Despite saying she was in a hurry, though, she stood still, gawking up at him like she wanted to say something else. Or maybe she wanted him to say something? Finally, she removed her hand from his. He cleared his throat and excused himself to follow Shepard, who was already three steps ahead of him. 

“That was weird,” he muttered. 

“She couldn't stop staring at your pretty blue eyes,” Shepard teased, her own green eyes flashing at him in amusement. 

“Hm, another compliment. How much did that just set my mom back?”

“That one? Only 50 credits. I don’t make much on compliments when I don’t have to lie.” She took a sip of her coffee as he caught up with her, her eyelashes batting from behind the cup.

A trill threatened to leap out of him when she said that, but instead a nervous chuckle came out. One he hadn’t heard come out of him since he was fifteen. There was something about Shepard complimenting him, even when she was only joking, that made him feel like a foolish fledgling. He never got flustered when turians told him he was attractive, so maybe it was because she was a human. That was really the only explanation that made sense.

“Alright,” he said as if he was asking a suspect to give up a ruse, “Vakarian Appreciation Hour is over. Give my mom’s credit account a rest.” 

“Hey, that reminds me,” he said, “have we watched that vid yet where the turian Spectre falls in love with an asari teacher and he thinks he needs to keep lying to her about being a Spectre or she’ll break up with him?”

“I thought turians don’t lie in situations like that? Isn’t that dishonorable?”

“Not supposed to, that’s one of the conflicts that leads to comedic situations.”

“I don’t think we’ve watched it. Add it to our queue and we’ll watch it on our next vid night.”

Damn, that sounded good, just relaxing at Shepard’s place, watching a vid. “Can that be tonight?” he asked, almost pleaded, really. 

“Sure,” she said, to his relief. They’d been spending a lot of nights and weekends together lately – most nights and weekends, actually – and he was convinced one of these days she was going to tell him to stop hanging around so much. She probably wanted to invite that guy from the bar over at some point. The dumb bastard could wait, though. He needed her more. And, Vakarian knew he’d be around a lot longer, too. 

They spent the rest of the journey to Homicide talking about their favorite meals to eat while watching vids. As they sat down at their desks and said good morning to Kryik and T’Saris a second ping sounded from his omni-tool.

“Fuck,” he hissed, suddenly feeling like he was trudging through deep water with his mate. “I forgot to answer Livia.”

Shepard looked over to him wincing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I distracted you the entire way here.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not angry at you for giving me something more pleasant to do than answer my mate’s angry messages. 

“You answer your mate before she breaks up with you. I’ll see whether Ziha made it through the night, or if we have a murder to solve.” 

After thanking Shepard for stepping in while he managed his plummeting relationship he looked down to his omni-tool to read the message he received when they were at the coffee shop. Dread made his throat feel tight. 

_Livia: You never messaged me, Garrus._

And then the one she just sent:

_Livia: Please don’t make me beg you to pay attention to me, Garrus. Because you know I will._

Dammit, she was angry and sulking. One or the other was bad enough, but both moods just meant he’d have to really commit to sucking up to her. He immediately messaged her back.

_Garrus: Spirits, Livia, I’m sorry I didn’t send a message like I promised._

_Livia: I waited up for you. And now I’m so tired I can’t focus on my console. Today is going to be hell._

He was already spur deep in his lie about working late last night, so he might as well commit to it to save his ass. Another lie. And he didn’t even feel bad about what he was about to say to her. He was a terrible turian. 

_Garrus: I got home really late and I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry._

_Livia: Don’t be such a fool, I always want to hear from you._

“Good news,” Kryik’s slightly astonished voice broke through Vakarian’s precarious focus on smoothing things over with Livia, “looks like you guys don’t have to solve the quarian’s murder. She’s alive.”

Vakarian looked up and over to Kryik, then followed his eye line to his console screen which displayed a news story covering Ziha’s attack. Immediately, Vakarian was surprised the news was covering an attack on a quarian in the lower wards –that stuff usually was ignored in favor of stories about pretty, young asari, or hate crimes. In other words, crimes that actually scared the rich and comfortable people who made and watched the news. A poor single quarian gutted in a maintenance corridor was no threat to them. 

“Well that’s awesome,” Shepard said, sounding pleased and staring at her own console. She probably had the case reports pulled up already. “Ziha is alive and we don’t have to find those fuckers. Assault and Battery can handle it.”

Vakarian nodded, eyes glued to Kryik’s console and watching the shots of the dark and crowded lower wards tactically placed to frighten viewers interspersed with shots of Huerta Memorial where Ziha had been taken. He’d have to call Tali soon to make arrangements to see her while she was here to take care of Ziha. Once he smoothed over things with Livia. And he’d have to finalize their reports so they could hand over the case to Assault and Battery. Vid night was going to be very much needed at the end of the day.

A chime rang out on his omni-tool. He could imagine her bright voice when he read the message. 

_Livia: I’ll forgive you. We can have dinner tonight and just relax. Maybe watch a vid. That sounds nice, right?_

_Damn all the spirits_. He sighed, and sunk down so low in his chair his carapace pushed awkwardly into the back. 

“What’s up, big guy?” Looking over at his partner, he saw Shepard’s bright smile shining his way. 

“Want me to start compiling all the reports?” she offered, a look of concern passing over her face as she genuinely tried to help. 

Her focus on work gave him the energy to lift himself back up. As he scooted closer to his console he said, “You wanna work on organizing our notes and I’ll start working them into the report?”

“Sure, who’s writing up notes for the images of the crime scene?”

“Rock paper scissors?” he offered. She’d introduced the little human game long ago and he was actually really good at it, which pissed her off. But she couldn’t just admit that he was better at it than her. Her eyes narrowed, a look of determination that was simultaneously threatening and absolutely endearing fell over her. She leaned forward in her seat and raised her hands into position. He leaned forward with all the intensity of accepting a physical challenge from an adversary. 

“Rock, paper, scissors,” they called out together, knocking fists into upturned palms. 

At the count of three, their fists slammed down in finality. She went with rock, he went with paper. Ha, he won. He opened up his mouth to declare just as much.

“Ha!” she exclaimed before he could say anything, loud enough to catch Kryik and T’Saris’ attention. “I won,” she declared with a smug little look on her face. 

He couldn't help but look at her, baffled how she thought she won. This may be a human game, but the rules were simple. “No, you didn't, Shep. Paper beats rock.”

She let out a frustrated shout, flung herself back into her chair, then immediately sat up straight again. “This game isn’t fair with you! I can’t tell your paper from your scissors. Your hand looks completely the same!”

“Completely different,” he told her confidently. Then to demonstrate how right he was he offered his open hand to represent paper. “That’s paper.” He spread his two fingers a bit further apart. “And that’s scissors.”

“That’s exactly the same.”

“Well, regardless, I still won, whether you realized it right away or not.”

“How do I know you didn’t just say paper when you saw that I did rock?” 

“That would be dishonorable, wouldn’t it?”

For some reason his explanation based on logic and facts just made her angry — her brows knitted and her lips drew tight. Probably because she knew just how wrong she was. Nice tactic, though – cheating by accusing him of cheating first. “This,” Shepard thrust her hand out towards him, palm forward and fingers stacked tight, “this is paper.”

“Only if you have too many fingers,” he shot back. 

Both of them had their mouths open, ready to fire off another insult or accusation, but they were both beat to the punch by T’Saris’ smooth voice. “Has anyone told you two that you’re absolute idiots?” 

T’Saris’ intervention was enough to end their lighthearted bickering. They stared each other down for just a moment before they both cracked a smile. Shepard’s eyes fell to his omni-tool, then raised again to look at him. She took in a deep breath, and in a flash, her face softened. “I’ll do the notes for the crime scene images.”

He was getting off because Livia was giving him a hard time, obviously. Shepard’s body language was a clear giveaway. He’d feel guilty, but he’d done the same for her in similar situations. He couldn't wish for a more perfect partner. And she was a damn good friend, too. 

They quickly dug into their work, carefully organizing, compiling, and building on their notes so that Assault and Battery had a robust case that would ensure not just that they’d find the attackers, but get a conviction. Tali wouldn't get a promise from him that he’d personally find whoever attacked her cousin, but Vakarian would make sure the detective they handed this to started off on the best foot possible. 

Near lunchtime and elbow deep in datapads, the only voice as nerve-wracking and authoritative as his father’s rang out through the department. “Vakarian, Shepard!” 

Vakarian’s attention shot to Pallin’s door to see the captain‘s imposing form taking up the entire doorway, his face characteristically unreadable, as he waited for Shapard and Vakarian to put down their work and look at him. When they both looked over a subtle jerk of his mandible told them to join him in his office. Odd, since they didn’t have a case to catch him up on. 

Regardless, they both rose and made their way to his office where they immediately sat down. Their body language wasn’t stiff, but they certainly didn't relax into the two chairs set up across from his desk. 

“We need to go over the case.”

“Just prepping it to hand over to Assault and Battery,” Vakarian answered, hoping to confirm they were competent enough to handle a case transition without Pallin watching over them. 

“You won’t be handing it over,” Pallin stated. “I’ll need a full briefing, and I need it now. I have a meeting with Executor Rix in thirty minutes.” 

Confusion fell over both of them, Shepard’s brow rose and he could feel his browplate quirked as well. They didn’t ask questions or protest, though, just waited for Pallin to explain. 

“Yes, she’s alive. And doctors are confident that they’ve done the impossible in saving her life, and will keep her alive. However, Ziha‘Zorah’s aunt is bonded to Councilor Sparatus’ brother. Councilor Sparatus called me personally and made it explicit that Homicide’s best team be put on this case.”

Shepard shifted forward, “Pardon the question, sir, but why doesn’t the councilor want Assault and Battery on this? They won’t be too happy we’re taking their case.”

“That’s Rix’s problem, not yours.”

Vakarian gave her a look, admiring her nerve to speak out. If he had, he’d be getting a call from his father riddled with subtle accusations that he was a difficult turian. Still, as a damned grown man. 

Pallin looked between the two of them with contemplative eyes, then sighed. “This doesn’t leave this room. Are we clear?”

They both answered with a serious nod.

“IA is standing on Assault and Battery’s spurs right now. Someone inside might be tied to some foul stuff going on at Chora’s Den. So, Rix’s confidence in that department is low, and he’s certainly not going to let them fuck up a case involving a councilor’s family.” 

As they listened he continued. “You two are the best I have, and you just so happen to be the ones I sent yesterday. So, lucky you. Not only do you get the chance to impress Executor Rix, but you get the chance to impress a councilor as well. Tell me, do you have anything? Assault and Battery will be pissed we kept this one, but they’ll be downright livid if we don’t solve it. Not to mention Rix will make my life a living nightmare, which means _I_ will make _your_ lives a living nightmare. Are we clear?”

They answered with quick nods. 

_Dammit._ Pallin saw this as an opportunity. Pessimistic as always, Vakarian only saw this as a way to disappoint Rix, piss off Pallin, and ruin the Vakarian name as far up as the damned Council. And then there was Tali. He’d have to forget all his self-doubt for her, and her cousin. 

Vakarian cleared his throat. “Sir, I have to divulge that I know Ziha’Zorah’s cousin, Tali’Zorah.”

“Close?” Pallin asked.

Vakarian shrugged. “Friends. We ran quite a few joint missions together when I was enlisted.”

“Shouldn't be a problem, right?”

“No, sir, but I wanted to make sure you knew.”

Pallin nodded, then watched them with a flat look on his face, as if he was expecting something. Right, briefing him on the case...

Shepard shifted, then began to speak. “Our biggest lead so far would be the two names written in what we assume was her blood. Two male turian names. I think our next step will be acquiring her records from Huerta Memorial so we can go over her injuries. We’ll revisit the scene, as well.”

Pallin turned his gaze to Vakarian, so he took over without even being asked to, like a good turian. Sort of made up for lying to Livia. “I’ll start looking at those names, cross reference any instance where they’re found together in housing, criminal, and port authority records. And I’ll take a look at CC vids. Maybe we’ll get a good shot of the perpetrators.” He looked at Shepard to bolster himself up – usually, they had a chance to chat about the case before a briefing. Their success came from their teamwork, and without prepping with Shepard his confidence teetered a bit as his brain worked through their next steps. After a quick breath, he finally said, “Probably should look at her credit account history. I assume she was in the lower markets visiting shops.”

Shepard agreed with a tilt of her head. “Let’s see who we can pull in to grab her movements since she arrived on the Citadel. Cross-reference the names written in blood first, then we can figure out where she’s been and track her on CC vids.”

They both took in a heavy breath, gathering up the energy to get cracking on a fresh case, then they looked over to Pallin hoping to be dismissed.

Pallin reclined in his chair and stroked a mandible, looking satisfied with what they had. “Looks like you two have it under control. Ziha’Zorah is in an enviro-tank now that’s healing and flushing her system of all bio-contaminants, but she’ll be taken out in a few days. I want you there. She hasn’t had a chance to say anything to anyone, so when she’s taken out and able to speak we need to hear everything she says. It could be vitally important.”

They both nodded and as Vakarian answered with a simple ‘yes, sir’, Shepard answered, “Sir, yes sir.” She said it completely seriously, too. Sometimes she overdid it on the military speak. It used to just be funny. Now he couldn’t help but think that it was kind of cute, though. Three years ago, when he first met her, he never would have dreamed he’d think anything about her was cute. Intimidating? Sure. Strange? Absolutely. 

“Yes, well,” Pallin spoke slowly. Vakarian and other turians in the department picked up that Pallin was working on communicating better with humans. But they clearly still confused him sometimes. “That’ll be all. Brief me again tomorrow after you visit the victim.” 

They quietly rose from their chairs and left his office. Just as soon as the door slid shut behind them Vakarian looked straight down at Shepard with the widest grin on his face. She just glared up at him.

“Not a word, Vakarian. I can’t fucking believe I just barked ‘sir yes sir’ to Captain Pallin.” She shook her head and muttered, “So fucking embarrassing.”

Even though he was itching to tease her, he just continued to grin down at her, and just like she asked, he didn’t say a word. The blush on her cheeks told him she was embarrassed enough as it was. He simply grinned at his funny little human partner, and got a gentle elbow in the side for it. 

***

The afternoon was filled with busy work. Getting everything lined up, requesting warrants, filling in a few spare detectives who didn’t have cases of their own taking up their time who’d help them look through data and evidence. The real work would start tomorrow. Which meant that they should have a relaxing evening to themselves to just hang out. 

Except that Vakarian muttered sometime near the end of the day that Livia wanted him to go over to her place. Which made sense, after he stood her up the night before. Didn’t mean that Shepard couldn’t secretly sulk to herself that Vakarian would be spending the evening with his mate instead of her. 

She’d never let him feel bad about it, though, so she told him not to worry about it, they’d hang out on the next free night they had. Shepard actually ended up making him feel better about it, though she wasn’t sure how successful she’d been.

At 3 o'clock sharp they packed up and left together, but didn’t say much as they walked to the skycar port. She watched him for a moment, shoulders dropped, hands in his pockets as if he wanted to bury as much of himself as possible. She convinced herself he was just tired. They’d been up late drinking the night before, and were pretty damn drunk by the time they went to bed.

She didn’t want to think about the case anymore, and wanted to get her mind off the damned horrific images of Ziha’s body taken when the medical staff at Huerta cleaned and prepped her for surgery. Shepard’s thoughts fell to a conversation she’d had with Kryik when Vakarian ran to get them coffee between warrant requests. She was trying to figure out why Kryik was so suddenly interested in humans, but Kryik hadn't offered any explanations. 

“Hey,” she said to Vakarian, who lifted his head to look at her, “is muscle definition as important to turians as it is to humans?”

“I don’t know, Shep,” he muttered, then looked back down at his shoes. 

Assuming he probably needed to get his mind off the case too, she continued talking. “You don’t know what turians find attractive all of a sudden?”

“Why do you care? Are you trying to attract a turian?” he asked, voice salty, rather than tired. He nearly snapped at her, actually. They never snapped at each other. His response caught her so off guard she couldn't help the childish, hurt feelings that welled up inside her. It was like when she was a kid and her gran would snap at her for running around the kitchen or something. 

She couldn't help it, she snapped back, “I’m just curious, Christ. What’s with the bitchy mood?”

He didn’t answer, just kicked at a crack in the skycar port platform.

She sucked up her hurt feelings and looked him over. Maybe he was more worn out than she had guessed. “You look tired,” she said as a peace offering. 

“Isn’t Kryik your go-to for sex talk?” Though he tried to play it off as a joke there was more heat in that reply than was warranted. She actually felt herself sulk backward from him. 

“I wasn’t asking what makes a turian _hard_ , just what they’re attracted to. What they think is beautiful. And you don’t need to be such a jerk.”

His reply came quickly. “I don’t like you flirting with Kryik, ok?”

She almost recoiled. Her reaction to that hit her straight in the gut. “I don’t _flirt_ with him, we just talk, that’s all.”

“It’s weird.”

“Yeah, it would be weird. _If_ I was flirting with him.” 

Silence settled between them for a moment. And as that moment grew so did her anger at him for snapping at her. And accusing her of flirting with Kryik, of all people. Sure, she was attracted to turians, but not Kryik. He was a friend. The thought of even having sex with him was just...no. She’d never even had random sexual thoughts, fantasies, or the occasional dream about Kryik. Vakarian, though? All the damn time. Not that she’d let him ever know that...because they were meaningless. Wasn’t her fault she’d been partnered up with the most attractive turian on the Citadel. 

That’s when it hit her, and she felt like such an ass. He was miserable because of whatever was going on between him and Livia, and here she was asking about turian attraction. It must have triggered him. Which, to be honest, was bullshit. Just because his relationship was a steaming pile of shit right now, didn’t mean he should be a shitty friend and take it out on her. A knot balled up in her gut and a flash of heat traveled up her chest and neck, leading her to loosen her shirt collar. 

She leaned against the skycar port console casually, her body language in stark contrast to how she actually felt, which was put-off and rebuffed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really excited for you and Livia to either break up or figure your shit out. You’ve been miserable to work with for months.” 

“I don’t need your shit right now too,” he told her. But instead of sounding angry, he sounded... well, sad. 

Which immediately had Shepard on the defense on his behalf, like she needed to go rough someone up for messing with her partner. “Is she giving you shit?” 

He finally looked at her, mild amusement in his look. “You gonna go beat her up like you did that poor Alliance piece of shit at the bar?”

“Maybe,” Shepard mumbled, her tone more threatening than it should be considering she was talking about beating up his mate. Literally. Which got her thinking. “You uh, should probably be pissed at me for saying I’m going to beat up your mate.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he muttered. But didn’t say anything else. She couldn't help but wince. This was honestly getting a bit awkward. She tucked her hands in her pockets and slumped back against the skycar port console, just then realizing she’d stood up straight at some point. Probably when she started thinking about Livia being an ass to Vakarian. Silence settled between them, all while Vakarian’s face portrayed his steadily growing agitation. His browplates knitted, then his mandibles clicked in tightly, his chest finally puffed up just before agitated subvocals trilled loud enough that she heard them. Just when she was about to ask him if he was ok, he spoke up. 

“I just…” he started, paused, then started back up again, “can I just get a break when I’m with you? When we’re working, or hanging out, I just want to relax and have fun. You’re my break from everything. I don’t want you telling me I need to change, or I'm not handling shit how you want me to.”

Shepard froze for just a moment, absolutely bewildered and wondering where the hell this all came from. 

She slumped even further on the console, shrinking as she recognized she wasn’t being as supportive as she could be. “Hey, I’m sorry. I never want you to suck it up and hold anything in. And you’re doing fine, you don’t need to change anything. I just...I hate when you’re in these moods. It makes me want to punch someone.”

“As much as I appreciate your fists for backup, sometimes I need less violent support.”

“Always, big guy,” she said while patting his back. “I could give you a hug. Or...I could sing to you…” she offered him an easy smile.

He laughed lightly, then sighed. “I just need a vid night. That’s all. Just me, you, Rocket...and your fireplace. And sober this time. As much fun as last night was...”

“Me, my apartment, my cat, and my vidscreen are available whenever you want.”

“Thanks, Shep.”

“But...just so you know, I would punch the Primarch for you.”

She brightened hearing his chuckle. ”Let’s just hope that none of my problems ever require assault on the Primarch as a solution,” he said. His omni-tool chimed, and just as Shepard was about to actually plan an assault on Livia, Vakarian looked down and read the message.

“Damn, this day just keeps…” he trailed off, shaking his head. 

“What?” Shepard asked.

“My dad. Asked me to come by.”

“Why?”

“Said they’re leaving in the morning to stay on Palaven for a few weeks and want to visit before they go. Which means I’ll be late getting to Livia’s.”

"Bit weird, isn't it?" Shepard asked.

"Yeah, they usually give me more of a heads up than this." He sighed, and his gaze drifted up to watch for a skycar.

“Sorry, this is probably my fault,” she deadpanned. “I just sent your mom the bill from this morning’s Vakarian Appreciation Hour. They must be going back to sell off all their assets.”

Without a beat, a snorting laugh came out of him. As their eyes met it steadily grew to a huffing, rolling laugh that noticeably lifted his spirits. They simply stood together on the platform a moment longer, laughing and lightly nudging each other playfully, until a skycar eventually came by and whisked him away. And off he went to visit his parents while Shepard tried to come up with something to occupy her time that night. Maybe she’d make herself a nice meal, home-cooked from scratch, even. Start reading that book Miranda had recommended. Do some laundry and go through her closet to get rid of stuff she no longer wanted. Donate them to that program helping the duct kids start a normal life.

It only took a moment before she realized she was kidding herself. She’d work out, eat something delivered, and listen to some soul music while dancing with her cat until she passed out on her bed in a wrinkled, baggy shirt. Just like she normally did. 

_Single guys on the Citadel, eat your heart out. Jane Shepard is a prime catch, and she won’t have any of you._

She smiled to herself, amused by her own joke, then looked down at the ground. That’s when she noticed them, those nasty tennis shoes were still on her feet. She must not have changed out of them and into her work boots. A normal response would be abject mortification, wearing repulsive shoes all day long at work, but she just laughed, much too loud and too hard for a woman standing at the skycar port by herself. She immediately took a picture of her shoes and sent it to Vakarian, then excitedly awaited a teasing reply while she tucked her hands back in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for the next skycar to roll in and take her home. 


	4. Console

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vakarian seeks support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I had on loop: Stand by Me, Ben E. King; In My Blood, Shawn Mendes
> 
> Also, I want to share something that went into writing this chapter. Not only is Blueboxness an amazing beta reader, but her beautiful Shakarian pieces also give me fluffy feels. I was particularly inspired by the one you see below and adopted her hc. 
> 
> I love this idea (perfectly depicted by Blueboxness) that all throughout their years together he'll stop and watch her blowdry her hair thinking "Damn, she's amazing". I came up with the idea that he starts that habit somewhere, and wrote that moment into this chapter.
> 
> So, thank you Blueboxness, for all your beta help and for inspiring me to write fluffy Shakarian moments based on your lovely pieces :)

Vakarian stood at the skycar port near his parents’ Citadel apartment. They weren’t leaving to visit Palaven – his father had made that up to get him to come over, because what they had to tell him and Sol had to be done in person. There had been explanations, there had been keening and hugs. They came together as a family and swore they would get through it. 

Vakarian wasn’t thinking of any of that, though. Numb legs and a single thought in his mind got him from his parents’ front door to the skycar port where he stood as still as stone, waiting for a skycar to rescue him from this nightmare. 

He’d never felt this numb before. Maybe – once he was stuck on a planet covered in ice with no supplies and a quickly dying heating core in his suit – maybe that compared. A cold shiver ran up his spine, making him realize just how tense every muscle in his body was. He wasn’t really cold, though. The shiver, the muscles, it was all just the adrenaline finally taking its toll on his body. 

It was dark where he stood, too. They needed to install a new light at that port. He felt uneasy standing there, as evidenced by the twitch in his trigger finger buried deep within his pocket, and could imagine how civilians would feel waiting for a skycar in the shadows and wondering who was lurking just behind a corner. 

And just like yearning for the warmth of the sun when he was on that planet close to succumbing to hypothermia, he craved the warmth and comfort of the sun to chase away this pain – a real sun, not the fake Citadel sun. 

All he was thinking about as he stood chillingly still was how badly he needed to see the only person who had any chance at all of making him feel better. Years ago he would have wanted to be alone through something like this. He would have gone home and sat by himself to drink and keen in a dark, lonely apartment. Boxed himself in and pushed the galaxy back. 

He didn't want to be alone that night, though. He wanted someone to be by his side. For anyone else that would have been obvious, normal, but he had pushed away anyone who offered an actual connection for years. Others were hurt, rejection, disappointment. 

His trigger finger itched again. To steady the anxious energy, he clenched both hands into tight fists within his pockets. His heart thumped along with the satisfying pressure in his fingers and palms. The breath he took was steady, calm. That damned sniper’s resolve to stay focused despite everything going to shit around you. 

He didn’t want to push the galaxy back, though, because he had someone to reach out to, didn’t he? His own little ray of sunshine who had the power to chase away the dark and the cold. Lift him up, make him laugh...make him _feel_. The numbness dissipated just a bit, just with the thought of her in his mind. Without even considering it, he felt something pulling him in her direction. 

Finally, after what could have been five seconds or five hours, for all he knew, the soft hum of a skycar pulling up caught his attention. With relief and the promise of seeing her racing to his heart, he felt his body move to crawl inside. He couldn’t even fathom driving, though. For once, he was satisfied with letting a skycar do all the work. 

Knowing that if he didn’t see her soon he’d unravel, he entered the coordinates to his destination and fell back against the stiff skycar seat.

Years later, he’d recognize that was the moment – standing at the skycar port aching to just be by her side – that he finally allowed himself to rely on someone again. That when the walls caved in, instead of ducking down, tucking himself in a safe little corner, he’d reach out to her to help hold them back. 

Over and over, she would help him push those walls back and give him the strength, the hope, to hold them up. And she’d do it with a smile on her face, blowing a wisp of hair from her forehead and giving him a little wink.

***

Shepard and Rocket’s evening ritual was more often than not nearly identical to their morning ritual. Both involved begging for treats, soul music, and dancing. While morning dancing was an energetic wake-up for a half-asleep body and mind, evening dancing was a nice little wind-down for Shepard’s aching muscles after she lifted weights or ran on the treadmill. 

Shepard’s muscles were relaxed, and Rocket was stuffed with too many treats, so it was time for them to settle down for the night. Just as she was about to turn the music off and throw on a vid her doorbell rang. Assuming it was a lost delivery person, or perhaps Uncle David on an impromptu shore leave – despite owning the apartment and having the access code he always waited to be let in – she set off jogging towards the door. On her way she pulled at the normally loose tank that was plastered to her sweaty, sticky skin, fruitlessly trying to air herself out before she forced her odor on whoever was on the other side. 

Preparing herself to see a stranger or her uncle waiting outside her apartment, she opened the door’s console screen and was surprised to see Vakarian standing in the hallway instead. He stood mostly still but was staring down to the ground and his feet were subtly shifting. Whereas Shepard was a jittery fool when on edge, he rarely fidgeted. Son of a bitch, if he ditched Livia two nights in a row…

Her mild irritation at his escalating antics concerning his mate was tempered, though, by the joy that surged through her simply from knowing he was there. With a self-satisfied grin, she stared at his image for just a moment and attempted to dampen down the giddy energy bubbling up in her stomach. 

Standing inside her apartment Shepard opened the door with crossed arms and a quirked brow, fully intending to give him hell before she’d let him in. As soon as the door slid open she scoffed. “Please don’t tell me you are ditching your mate again. If she…” He slowly lifted his head, and his eyes met hers, and she knew something wasn’t right. His tight mandibles, tired and sad eyes, and the way he looked to her as if he was lost rendered her speechless for just a moment. They just looked at each other for a long moment, his solemn comportment silently asked for her understanding, looked to her for a soft place to land. 

Immediately matching his somber demeanor, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

She stepped out of the doorway to let him in her apartment, his body moved like an anchor dragged and pulled him down. His heavy steps fell but he offered no explanation. 

“Is Livia mad at you or something?”

He still didn’t answer. She watched helplessly and concerned as he only made it a few feet inside her apartment before he fell back against a wall. There was no way he’d be this upset about something involving Livia. Something else was the cause, she was certain. 

“Come on big guy, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“My mom.” He stopped and looked up at her again, anguish and fear in his eyes. It was like someone had ripped his heart right out of his chest. 

“What about your mom? Is she ok?”

His voice was steady, but pained, when he said, “She has Corpalis. It’s terminal. My mom is going to slowly die in front of our eyes and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“ _Oh, Garrus_ ,” a breath caught in her chest as the thought of Vakarian losing Valeria hit her straight in the heart. Sure, most people enjoyed a meaningful bond with their mother, but she’d never seen a mother so supportive and loving, or a son so appreciative of his mother’s support. He needed her. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shepard finally said. Compelled to do something, she rushed towards him. Once within his reach, though, she hesitated, unsure of what he needed. Would a hug comfort him? Should she pat his shoulder, or take his hand? Joking and laughter had gotten them through so much together, but now he needed something more. But what?

With eyes that implored her for some comfort, he remained slumped against the wall. Her tentative hands lifted. But she was still undecided what to do with them, so they hovered, suspended in the air and without purpose. With a swift step, he took the guessing away by closing the gap between them and lifted her up, his long, strong arms encircled her and he held her with what seemed like all his strength. Her feet dangled down beneath her, swaying several feet above the floor. Her damp shirt pressed against her skin, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind. He held her like that for a long moment, her guilt building because she wouldn't have known he needed this from her if he hadn’t just taken the leap himself. To make up for her hesitation she held him back as closely as her muscles would allow. 

“How long?” she eventually whispered into his chest.

His voice shook. “Ten years. Fifteen at most. If she’s lucky”

Her first instinct was to point out the positive, ten years was a long time, better than six months or a year. But that wasn't the point. Vakarian was still young, not even thirty yet, and had so much life to live, and he just found out his mom wouldn’t be there for so much of it. What life experiences would she not be there for? Seeing him get bonded, have children. Maybe she’d never get to be a grandma. Never watch Vakarian’s kids grow up and turn into beautiful, kind, happy turians just like everyone else in the Vakarian family.

And Shepard didn’t even know what Corpalis was, so she wasn't sure what Valeria would go through in those years. Would it affect her body? Her mind? Considering it was terminal, the answer was probably both. It was going to be painful. Vakarian had ten to fifteen years of pain ahead of him. And a lifetime without a mom after that, something Shepard was familiar with. That pain never went away. She wondered if he was keening. She wouldn’t be able to hear it if he was. 

Shepard breathed through the emotions that were just a tickle in her chest before they became a storm. She held him as silence fell between them, giving him the chance to talk if he wanted. It was during that silence that she realized her apartment was actually very much not silent – her music drifted from the kitchen. Her soul music. The music he despised and that set his nerves on fire.

“Oh god, the music, I’m sorry. Let me...” She tried to pull back out of his embrace so she could turn off the guy singing desperate declarations of love, but he held her so tight she could’t. Held her tighter, actually, when she tried to pull away. 

“Don’t turn it off, it makes me feel like everything is normal. I mean, I hate it but I need normal. I just wanted to be here with you. Listening to your terrible music.” 

“Whatever you want,” she told him. 

He laughed softly, sadly, waning energy leaving him sounding so small, so quiet. “It at least makes me upset about something other than my mom.” 

“ _Garrus_...” she muttered, her throat clamping shut in grief as she held him tight.

“I don’t want to watch my mom die, Jane.” His mandibles flickered in such a way she could only relate to a lip quivering. 

“I know. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed him tight, as tight as she could, her arms pressing against his hard carapace. 

He moved to release her, arms loosening to let her body slide slowly down his until her feet eventually met the floor once again. She had to say something to make him feel...not better, because how could he feel better? Something to honor his mom, to make him think about her strength and beauty. Something to convince him that despite the darkness ahead, there would still be good days. His mom still had life ahead of her.

“Garrus, I haven’t known your mom long, but all I’ve ever seen her do is live. She’s going to keep living. All those years, she’ll be living. And you’ll be able to see it, and...and…” she faltered, losing faith in her ability to say something that would help make him feel better.

But after a moment his face softened, and warmth bloomed in his eyes that told her that her bumbling speech actually helped. “Thank you,” he said. 

“If you need anything, doesn’t matter what it is or when. I will be there to make sure you get whatever you need.” 

He nodded, acknowledging and accepting her promise, and took the first decent breath in she’d seen him take since he arrived at her doorstep. 

“So tell me, what do you need? Another hug? Do you want to talk–” 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he said with a decisive shake of his head and worn voice. He actually looked repulsed by the idea, with good reason because he had probably been at his parents for two hours – he had to be exhausted and out of things to say, so she didn’t push. So she answered with a nod, and the soft breath he let out upon seeing her agree to his request was a confirmation that he needed a time out from his thoughts and emotions. Which didn’t surprise her. Garrus, although just about her favorite person in the galaxy, had a track record of avoiding anything he wasn’t prepared to handle. 

“Wanna watch a vid?” He took in a quick breath he didn’t let out, then in a shaky voice, said, “I don’t want to be alone.” She’d never heard him sound so weak. He sounded so incredibly small, so lost and sad and small for a beautiful, strong, seven-foot-tall turian. She’d give him anything to take that pain away. 

“Yeah, of course,” she answered simply, warmly. Eager to convince him she’d do anything for him right now, she added, “Anything you want. That Spectre one?”

“Sounds great,” he said, a look of relief washing over him so strong she could actually see it in the way his muscles relaxed and his eyes brightened. Before they took a step, though, a chime rang on his omni-tool. Despite the music coming from her kitchen, the sound was piercingly, threateningly loud. He immediately winced but didn’t take his eyes off her. It had to be Livia, wondering where he was. Waiting for him to start their date night. The dread she saw in Vakarian spurred her to take control of this little problem for him. 

Shepard hesitantly reached for his omni-tool, waiting for him to tell her to stop, but he stood still, allowing her to take his wrist in her hand so that she could carefully type out a reply to Livia. She read Livia’s message first, which expressed how excited she was to see him soon. It hinted that she’d been mad at him, but this would make up for his mistake of working late the night before. The tone in the message made all guilt Shepard felt fly out the window, and only encouraged her to carry out her plan. She’d pretend to be Vakarian in her reply, and make up some reason he couldn’t come over. 

Vakarian’s wary eyes watched her the whole time, slowly blinking but never saying a word as she explained to Livia that his parents’ front door was acting buggy and he had to stay to fix it so it wouldn’t fly open in the middle of the night. It would take hours, of course, but a maintenance engineer wouldn’t be available to fix it until tomorrow morning. It just had to be done. Hope you understand, and other general relationship placations she was out of practice with. Then she turned his messages to silent, knowing his family would contact her if they found they couldn’t reach him. 

Once she was done typing she looked up at him, waiting for his response, but all he did was look at her with gratitude. She gave him a reassuring smile. The deed was done. He was free to relax, and focus on himself. In that moment Shepard realized she’d do anything to make him happy. Someone had to.

Rocket made his way into the room, strutting with soft steps that carried him straight to Vakarian’s feet where he stopped, looked up at the turian that towered over him, and pawed at Vakarian’s legs with a soft ‘mow’. Vakarian smiled, picked Rocket up, and placed him in the crook of his cowl where the cat sat proudly, accepting wonderful scratches from talons made for pleasing cats.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk? I can just listen if you don’t want me to say anything. Whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it right now. I just want a break. I want to forget for a while.”

“Is she –”

“Really, Shep, I don’t want to say anything else. Later. Just not tonight.”

She nodded. “I can do that. Mind if I take a shower before we start the vid?” she said. “I just worked out...”

Vakarian nodded, slowly and hesitantly, like he didn’t want to say yes. Of course, he said he didn’t want to be alone, and he meant that. And she promised to do whatever she could to be there for him. She took a strong inhale, got a whiff of herself, and knew she’d have to take a shower, despite his reluctance to let her out of his sight. There had to be a way for her to get cleaned up without leaving him alone.

“Hey, why don’t I take a shower with the privacy setting on the glass? And you can just sit on my bed. We can still talk while I’m in there, or you can just sit with Rocket and wait until I’m done.”

All her thoughtfulness got her in return was a judging look that accused her of being crazy. Vakarian was so opposed to her offer that he stopped scratching Rocket, so the damn cat turned and glared at her as well. As if he knew it was her fault. 

“Hey, you soldiers shower together all the time,” she carefully pointed out. 

“I don’t…” he looked at her as if she was talking nonsense, “that’s different. No, I can just sit down here.” Vakarian resumed scratching Rocket, who leaned into the turian’s touch and slowly blinked at Shepard as if bragging about his good scratches. 

“It’ll be fine, you won’t even be able to see me but we’ll be able to talk. Just pretend I’m folding laundry or something.”

“It’ll be weird.”

“It won’t be weird.”

“Come on,” she said as she turned away from him and took a step. But his hand wrapped around her forearm and caught her before she could get far. It caught her off guard enough to make her turn back and look at him. She saw fear and sadness in his eyes that caused her to reconsider whether she really needed a shower. What would he do down here by himself? He’d go stir crazy, start to take apart her vidscreen or something. 

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you fix that light for me in my closet?” She took his hand, the one that had grabbed her arm, with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Without another protest, his other hand held Rocket steady within his cowl, and they made their way upstairs. She could tell that he was still hesitant because of the way his enormous body dragged behind her and she had to tug him along. But they made it upstairs to her bedroom.

“Here,” she led him to her closet and touched the console to turn on the light, except one didn’t turn on. “See, a dud. You don’t have to do it, but the task is there if you want it.”

She watched him carefully. She certainly didn’t want him to fix it on her behalf. But she knew her friend well. She knew he liked to keep his hands busy. Working on tasks like this gave his mind a chance to focus on something else. If he didn’t have a distraction, he’d sit and brood. He looked thankful, actually, as he looked up at the light. “Probably just a loose wire,” he said. “These boxes were popular five years ago when this building was constructed, but the connectors are weak. I’ll grab some tools and reattach it to the terminal block.”

“If you want, or you can just sit on the bed. It’s up to you. Either way, I won’t be long.” She paused, assessing him and wanting confirmation that it was ok to leave him, then asked, “That ok?”

He nodded, eyes fixated on the light as he shrugged his jacket off and threw it on her bed. Taking that as her cue that she was free to shower.

With that, she gave him a reassuring smile. He began to roll up his sleeves with subtle flicks of his fingers and wrists as she snuck some underwear inside a pair of shorts, grabbed a baggy cropped tank top, and headed towards the shower. Just as she stepped in, she turned on the privacy setting for the glass walls so Vakarian wouldn't see her undress or shower. Only a second later she heard him stammer for a moment then explain he’d go look for the tools he kept in her kitchen cabinet so he could fix the light.

It dawned on her as she peeled her gross clothes off and flicked them over the top of the shower stall that she _should_ feel hesitant to strip naked and shower with her partner in the other room, but she just didn’t. For one, she’d never been shy about her body around him. She frequently wore nothing but tight shorts and a sports bra when hanging out, because she was unwilling to skip workouts even though they were working late or watching vids. 

Besides, it’s not like he was interested in seeing her naked. Unlike Kryik, he found nothing attractive about humans. So, completely unphased, she flicked a console control and sighed as the hot water rushed over her sweat-sticky skin. 

She showered in silence for just a moment, running shampoo through her hair, as thoughts of Valeria and the whole Vakarian family crept in. Her heart broke for them. She wanted to call Valeria. But they needed space. And what the hell could she say right now that would help at all? She heard Vakarian return and fiddle around with the light panel. The electronic hum of a drill echoed through the master suite as he got to work and Shepard tried to chase away her sorrowful thoughts, because how could Vakarian forget his pain if Shepard looked at him with pity all night? 

A few minutes later the drill sound stopped. Just a moment later while running soap over her body, she heard Vakarian’s voice carrying from the direction of her bed. “Mmm, does Rocket usually sit outside your shower?”

Shepard glanced over, wiping water from her eyes, and sure enough, a little black blobby shadow of a cat sat on the other side of the glass. “Yeah, that’s normal.”

“You really don’t care about your privacy when you’re showering, do you?” Vakarian asked with thinly veiled judgment. 

“He’s a cat. He doesn’t know what naked is.”

Rocket pawed at the shower door, then threw his head back and let out a quick, protesting ‘mow’. 

“Knock it off, you big baby,” Shepard told him with amusement in her voice. 

“Wanna talk about the case?” Vakarian asked. 

“Sure, if you do. What‘s on your mind?”

“You worried at all about it? About dropping the ball on this one?”

“No, not really. We have two names, which pretty much hands us their identities – if she got their actual names. And there has to be some CCTV footage showing them in the area. We should have it in the bag, really, don’t you think?” 

There was silence on his end.

“Are you worried about something?” she asked.

“Before Pallin told us why the case was staying with us? No. The case seems pretty easy. But now that I know the Council and Executor Rix are watching us...” he paused. Then in a slightly frustrated tone said, “Knowing the Council is watching us seriously has no impact on you?”

Still unphased, she answered, “Not really. To be honest, I’m still not sure exactly what the Council does.”

He replied dryly, “General sentiment of the populace is that they don’t know what they do either.”

She laughed softly, “Good to know I’m finally fitting in with Citadel citizens. But this is just any other case, in my mind. Why should it be different?”

“Oh, because Executor Rix, Councilor Sparatus, and Primach Fedorian have lunch once a week with my dad, and I can assure you this case will come up. The four turians most capable of really fucking up my future have lunch once a week, and this week they’ll be discussing the case I shouldn’t even be working.”

“How did I not know this? Why does your dad have lunch with them every week? For work?”

“No, they’re all friends, pretty close actually. And I don’t know how you don’t know, I’m sure he’s mentioned their names before.”

“Well excuse me for not assuming your dad’s friend Cyrus is _Primarch Cyrus Fedorian_.” Shepard couldn’t contain the disbelief she felt when she said, “You know, you could have clarified that for me.”

“Why does it matter? Honestly, I try to forget.”

“Jesus, I joked about punching him. You have to tell me these things so I don’t make an ass out of myself.”

“Shep, you know I accept you, ass behavior and all,” he joked. She rose up on her tiptoes to shoot her middle finger at him over the top of the shower stall, which made him laugh, small and sad, but it was a laugh. “Besides, you just said it to me. It’s not like I’m going to tell him.”

“No, last month when we had dinner with your parents.”

Vakarian sighed so loud Shepard could hear it over the soft rush of water flowing from the showerhead. “Why do you constantly threaten to punch people?”

“Your dad was talking about some Hierarchy policy that affected a Cipritine case he was consulting on, I just said it to be funny, show Castis a little support.”

“I’m sorry,” Vakarian said as soon as she stopped talking. So quickly, in fact, she was left confused about what he was apologizing for. 

“For what?” she said, stepping out of the water flow to rub body conditioner over her skin. 

“Being an asshole. At the skycar port.”

“Ohhh, for yelling at me because you are delusional and the worst detective ever for thinking Kryik and I flirt?”

“No, I’m sticking by that one. It’s weird and you should feel bad about it.”

“Well I don’t feel weird,” she said, a bit of brattiness in her voice. “Because I wasn’t flirting. I’m not even attracted to Kryik.” She said that last bit loudly, for some reason adamant that he heard her, then muttered to herself low enough so that he couldn't hear, “What is this, high school?”

A moment of silence passed. Rocket pawed at the door again, which she ignored. 

Vakarian’s voice, softer than before, broke that silence. “I…” he cleared his throat, “mmm...” he paused.

“Christ, spit it out, big guy. Did the privacy setting on the shower walls fail?”

Before he could answer she turned off the water, then grabbed her towel to dry off, squeezing water out of her soaked hair while waiting for Vakarian to get to his point.

“No, I’m still apologizing,” he nearly grumbled. “I’m trying to say that everyone makes me feel like shit but you. Pallin, Livia, my dad...even Kryik sometimes. So, I guess I just hate hearing that I’m upsetting you...or that you don’t like being around me. Doesn’t excuse treating you like that, though.”

“Garrus, I always want to be around you. I’m sorry I said you’ve been miserable to work with. I just said that to be an asshole back. I say mean things when I get yelled at. Which is awful, I know. ”

She grabbed her clothes and put them on while still in the shower. Felt weird, but the alternative was to shock her partner with a lewd shot of her fleshy pale body. Fully clothed in her shorts and baggy cropped tank, she stepped out of the shower and turned towards her bedroom to see Garrus lying on his back at the foot of her bed. The sight of him immediately made her smile. Pillow folded and tucked under his neck, arms stretched out and folded above his head, one leg dangling off the end of the bed and resting on the ottoman underneath – he looked pretty damn comfy for someone opposed to being in her room while she showered. Exhausted, but comfortable. 

“Have you eaten?” she asked, making her way towards him and choking down the inclination to ask him if he was ok.

He looked at her, turning his head slowly side-to-side and looking increasingly tired, “I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll get you some snacks and some water, just in case.”

She went downstairs to get a plethora of dextro and levo snacks and a bottle of water. When she reached the top of the stairs she overheard him talking to someone, and just as the bedroom door slid open she recognized Sol’s voice.

“Are you ok? You’re not alone, are you?”

“No, I’m not alone.”

“Did you go to Livia’s?” Sol asked, and the cautious inflection fairly transparently told Shepard that Sol had some thoughts concerning that.

“No, I’m at Jane’s.”

“Oh good,” Sol said, sounding relieved. 

Not wanting to interrupt them, Shepard set the snacks and water down and moved into her bathroom to blow dry her hair, a soft whir starting up that drowned out most of Vakarian’s conversation with his sister, which was nice, giving them some privacy. 

Her hair nearly dry, Shepard whipped it to the side to dry the last little bit. To check up on him she glanced at Vakarian’s reflection in the mirror and was caught off guard to find him off the call with his sister, his eyes carefully watching her. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were transfixed on her with something like fascination. He must have been fixated on her hair – he’d always been intrigued by it, but the affectionate smile that played at his mouth and mandibles took her by surprise, made her wonder. 

Their eyes stayed locked for just the briefest moment before his flicked away, then he shifted. She looked back to her reflection, convincing herself that he was tired, grieving, and that the look he gave her was simple xeno-fascination. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, and the odd way they made her heart flutter, Shepard flipped the hairdryer off and turned to him. “Sol ok?” 

“Yeah, she’s staying at a friend’s tonight. She just called to make sure I wasn’t...”

“Alone?” 

He shrugged. “I think she called to make sure I wasn’t at Livia’s.”

“I’ll leave it alone tonight, but I’m going to eventually ask you what’s going on with you and your mate.”

“Nothing,” he said and stiffened. His eyes fell to the floor as he contemplated something, then he looked back up at Shepard. “Well, nothing more than my fragile ego,” he admitted. “The other night she said that C-Sec was full of failed Spectre candidates.”

Shepard scoffed, knowing full well her ire was written all over her face at that moment. “What a way to a man’s heart. Insult his career path. So are your feelings hurt, or are you just upset that your mate’s so stupid?”

Shepard walked to the closet, grabbed a spare blanket, and folded her arms around it to hold it close to her chest. “Did she say it on purpose or–” 

“No, I don’t even think it crossed her mind that she was referring to people like me.”

“You didn’t fail,” Shepard said, frustration in her voice because she hated when he said self-deprecating stuff like that. “Your dad talked you into choosing C-Sec.” Shepard shrugged. “I guess I _am_ going to have to beat her up.”

Appreciative eyes fell on her, but there was gentle chastisement in his tone when he said, “She just doesn’t think about the stuff she says.”

“Hm,” Shepard pretended to think, quirking her brow and pursing her lips, “isn’t diplomacy, like the act of carefully crafting how you interact with people, sort of a requirement to work at the Embassy?”

Vakarian’s mandible fluttered out in a reluctant grin. “Never said she’s good at her job.”

Shepard shot him a playfully astonished look. “Ooo, I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

Vakarian’s grin grew and he reached out to shove her, his hand landing on her hip and giving her a good push. She stumbled back, regained her balance, then lifted her foot up to shove his hip with it. They chuckled and shoved each other a bit, all the while her heart swelling to see him smiling.

Once he got his last good shove in his smile faded, sentimentality taking over as he looked up at her. “Why are you so damn easy to be around?” 

She shot him a confident smile. “Because I’m so awesome. And I mean it, I always like being around you. I’d rather hang out with grouchy, moody Garrus than with anyone else.”

Shepard left his side to walk to the head of the bed, drew down the covers, and began to crawl in. He watched her the whole time, horrified. 

“What are you doing, aren’t we going downstairs to watch the vid?”

“Turians don’t do sleepover parties?”

“I’m not sleeping on this bed with you,” he declared as if she asked him to commit murder. Ignorant of Vakarian’s declaration, Rocket jumped up on the bed and curled up somewhere between Shepard’s feet and Vakarian’s body, tucking himself in comfortably. 

“I’m kidding. You don’t have to sleep on my bed, just watch the vid here. We’re already comfortable.” She tossed him some snacks and a bottle of water. “Relax. I promise I won’t turn on porn and try to jump your bones. Once the vid’s over you can either go sleep in the guest bed or go home.” She used her omni-tool to turn the fireplace on, then turned to Vakarian and with a raised brow challenged him to leave now that a fire would be radiating heat, making them all warm and cozy. 

He sighed, giving in to her temptation of a soft bed and warm fireplace, and relaxed back into the mattress. “I don’t even want to argue anymore, I’m too tired. Put on the vid.”

“Good,” she smiled, “what’s it called?”

“Necessary Lies.”

“Oh my god, what a perfect, cheesy title,” she said while using her omni-tool to search for then stream it to her vidscreen. She tossed him the spare blanket she’d retrieved, which he promptly wrapped around his gigantic body that took up the entire end of the king-sized bed. She could already feel warmth radiating from his legs. Which felt very nice. She watched him for just a moment, perfectly comfortable and seemingly happy for this distraction, so she stifled that heavy urge she felt to ask him just once more if he wanted to talk. Even if it felt wrong to just pretend everything was fine, that’s what he wanted. 

As if he could tell what she was thinking, with a quiet voice said, “Thanks, Jane.”

“For what?” she asked. 

“Everything,” he answered simply, his eyes stuck on the vidscreen as the vid started up. He had picked up one of the snacks she gave him and was lazily nipping and leaning back his head just slightly to swallow a small bit. Just then Shepard’s omni-tool pinged with an incoming message. She took a moment to tell him ‘you’re welcome’ and nudged her foot towards his leg under the covers before she looked down to see that the sender was Sol.

Sol’s message melted Shepard’s heart, expressing her gratitude that Shepard was always there for her brother. Shepard and Sol exchanged a few messages back and forth, checking in with each other and ensuring that Vakarian was ok. 

It was then that Shepard realized, embarrassingly late, that Vakarian had come to her when he needed someone. He hadn’t gone to Nihus or Livia. He needed someone who made him feel safe. Someone who could listen if he asked for it, or distract him if he needed it. And he chose her. 

Years later she would look back and remember that moment – him lying on her bed, struggling to cope with the news of his mother’s terminal illness but finding comfort in Shepard’s presence – as the moment she knew that whenever she faltered, whenever she hurt, she always chose him too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for kudos, comments, and for reading. Hope you all are taking care :)


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